


Take Back The Kingdom

by Meginoi (Delirious99)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 10:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 30,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16282553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious99/pseuds/Meginoi
Summary: The kingdom the Sanders family ran was prosperous, a monarchy that was loved by its people. When a terrible tragedy struck, prince Roman was left orphaned with his corrupt uncle as king. But rebellion stirs, and when Roman is found without any memory of who he is by a mysterious stranger, the rebellion might just have chance they were waiting for…





	1. Prequel

The kingdom that the Sanders family ruled was a prosperous one, and well known due to the caring nature of the royal family; but later it would be known for a royal tragedy and the young prince that was left an orphan. The Sanders family was revered, the fact that they had one of the largest kingdoms and armies around having a lot to do with it. The parties they threw were some of the most lavish in the higher circle of society. Lords and Ladies flocked to them to fawn over the couple and their adorable child. However, the attention didn’t make them unkind.

The kingdom had been happy, its people content under the rule of the benevolent king and queen. They had been childhood sweethearts that had grown apart as they grew older, yet fate brought them back together years later. They married and inherited the throne at a young age after the untimely death of the then prince’s father, ruling over the great city that surrounded the castle and the nearby, smaller, quaint villages that were dotted throughout the great forest.

Their child was born a few years after the king inherited the throne. Prince Roman Sanders was adored by the people, growing up in the spotlight of his kingdom and far beyond its reach. His heroic tendencies made him endearing to everyone he met, his manners and charm only cemented his image more, making him seem like the perfect little successor to the crown. Everyone knew he would grow up to be a great leader under the care of his parents, one that would carry on the work that they did when his time came to become king with a husband or wife by his side. A love for sword fighting and horse-riding consumed the child, often being found in the gardens, most of the time caught up in a fantasy world conjured by his imagination. It was also a common sight to see him slay an imaginary dragon with a wooden sword or spend time the stables, the king by his side, as he taught him how to care for the pony that that had been a present for his fifth birthday. This brought infinite confusion to his nanny when he befriended the extremely quiet child of the king’s personal assistant and dragged him along as a sidekick on his adventures. However, both children seemed happy so they let them be.

Until the tragedy. The carriage crash on the way back from visiting friends had been an accident: an unknown beast had spooked the horses, who bolted. The carriage was run off the road and into a tree, flinging the king and queen from it. Official mourning lasted for a full week.

The kingdom was faced with a dire situation, Roman was only ten years old and nowhere near an age fit to take the throne, so who would rule the people? After a panic-filled search, Roman’s uncle, Declan, seemed the only choice.

Declan was known throughout the kingdom as power hungry and selfish, a foolhardy gambler that everyone hoped and expected to change once the responsibility of ruling the kingdom was thrust upon him. However, his new title only led to him plummeting ever further into his selfish spiral.

Many castle servants lost their jobs; Declan’s foolish spending habits left no money to pay for any workers except the bare minimum he desired, causing Roman to lose his only friend. What once was a prosperous land now put money into the pockets of the wealthy and left the poor struggling to eat.

Rumours of rebellion started to stir, sending a hushed frenzy from town to town. Talks of disloyalty were kept far away from the royal family and any of their associates. If they overthrew the king, then they could build their land back up from its foundations. And yet a single shred of hope kept the rebellion underground, waiting anxiously. Roman.

Roman would fix everything, the people hoped and prayed. He would resist the temptations of corruption, and when he took back the throne he would bring their land back to the prosperous times it had once known. The days passed by at an agonisingly slow pace for those who suffered, while the current king knew all too well how quickly the prince was growing. He grew from a confused child that had just lost his parents to a boy of seventeen on the verge of adulthood, ready to take the crown that he had been born to wear.

And that, my friends, is where our story begins…


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of death, poisoning

King Declan stared out over the city below. Tiny figures were bustling about in the still falling snow, their inane babbles dying out long before it would reach his ears. He wondered what they found to talk about, didn’t they live the same boring life every day?

He sighed loudly and turned away from the window, walking across the stone floor of his chamber. His footsteps echoed loudly as the sound bounced off the walls, somehow making the room seem cold, despite the roaring fire that crackled and danced in the corner and the red drapes with gold trim that hung from the bed, windows, and walls. The deep winter that the kingdom was under required a fire to be in the fireplace day or night, or else they  risked succumbing to the elements.

He turned and stared into the orange flames that flicked and waved in front of him, letting his mind wander over his plan. His brother and sister in law’s deaths had been…a tragic accident, but his nephew’s wouldn’t be. A grotesque grin stretched across his face, sending a malicious look to dance in his eyes.

A knock at the door and a quiet voice, announcing that the court physician was waiting for him in the throne room, snapped him out of his thoughts. He composed himself, wiping away his grin with a mere thought and letting a sense of cold detachment settle in his eyes.

Declan flung open the door, ignoring the meek girl that stood there as he strode down the hall. People parted at his presence, dipping into deep bows or curtsies until he had passed. He saw no sign of Roman on his way, although his usual raucous laughter was easy to hear as he passed the gardens; the boy frequented the place, even in the cold weather.

As he stepped into the throne room, the heavy door slammed shut behind him, eliciting a dull thud. The throne room was more like a large ballroom with high, arched windows on either side and a floor of well polished wood. An elegant throne sat on an elevated platform at the other end of the room, framed by rare jewels that made up the coat of arms on the wall behind. A plush, red material was stretched over the seat and arms, framing the gold coloured metal that made up the rest of the throne. Intricate designs had been carved into the legs and back of the chair, images of woodland vines and mythical creatures curled up the legs and stretched over the back, too delicate to be seen unless you were up close.  

A middle-aged man stood in the centre of the room, holding a small vial.  He turned at the king’s entrance. “Good morning, Your Majesty. A fine day, isn’t it?” He asked, bowing low as he spoke.

“Is it done?” Declan asked, ignoring the question.

“It is. This will knock the prince out long enough to dispose of him in the woods, like you requested. However, it will not kill him.”

“Good, I don’t want his death to be as easy at that. Did you add the failsafe, like we discussed?”

“I did, sire. If something goes wrong, Prince Roman will lose his memory. I am unsure how long that will last though, I have no way of telling.”

“I will make sure it won’t come to that, he will be long dead before the potion has a chance to wear off.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty. Is there anything else?”

“Just one more thing. If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone I will kill you myself, is that understood?”

“Y-yes sire.”

“Excellent. You may go,” Declan announced, watching as the physician hurriedly bowed and scurried from the room. At the quiet click of the servant door, Declan smirked. The best way to rule a kingdom was for your subjects to live in fear. With a swish of his fur lined cloak, he turned and strode from the room.

—————

The kitchens were operating in their usual, barely controlled way. People rushed from one station to another, lighting fires and carrying bowls of hot food. As Declan’s footsteps echoed across the floor, the entire kitchen seemed to freeze. Conversations quickly died off until you could hear a pin drop. The king scowled, letting his gaze move over the servants, many of them dropping their gazes to the floor.

“Get on with it, then,” Declan spoke, breaking the silence. The kitchen jolted to life again, the staff jumping out of their feet-freezing-fear at the order. The tense silence remained though, devoid of the casual chatter it held before.

The king paid no attention, swiftly making his way towards the head cook. Declan made no attempt to glance down and learn the man’s name, he had no need to. The cook turned away from his stock-taking, placing the parchment on a nearby table before bowing deeply. “What can I do for you, my king?”

Declan remained stoic, the grunt of approval he gave the only sign for the cook to rise. He opened his hand, revealing a vial no bigger than his palm, a clear liquid inside it. “This needs to be put the prince’s food as a matter of urgency.”

The cook hesitated for a second, eyeing the vial cautiously. “Forgive me for my curiosity, my king, but what is this concoction? I am hesitant to add it to the prince’s meal without this knowledge.”

Declan’s expression morphed from bored detachment into something darker, something hard to place. “Do you not trust your king?”

“Oh sire, that was not my intention at all! Please accept my-”

“Then do not stand there grovelling, do what I said. It was not a request, it was an order. I did not expect to be challenged over a mere tonic, you would make prince Roman suffer muscle aches after a long day of sword fighting?”

“Not at all, your highness! I’ll make sure it is prepared for this evening!”

“Then get to work, evening is quickly approaching.”

“At once sir!” The cook agreed, sweeping into another low bow. Declan didn’t reply as he turned and strode from the room. That had been close, the cook would have to go. The peasants who worked in the castle were all too stupid, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The deep winter bought with it dark evenings; nights that would have been spent outside, enjoying the sunshine, were now spent huddling around the fire for warmth. Prayers for survival ‘til spring was a heavy burden on the people of the kingdom, which was a worry that was kept far away from the prying eyes of Roman. As they boy grew, Declan could see he held the same foolish heart his father had, one that would take money from his gambling fund and give it to the people. That was something Declan wouldn’t stand for.

Yet, it was something that would happen if Declan didn’t take action. So, when he sat for dinner with his nephew that night, he prayed to any god that was listening, asking that his plan go ahead without a hitch.

As he took his seat at the dead of the table, he could hear his nephew loudly greeting anyone he passed from all the way down the hall. To Declan, this was stupid, insolent! How would anyone obey his orders if they thought he was their friend?

“Good evening, uncle!” Roman exclaimed as he entered the dining room, striding forwards confidently and taking his usual seat at the table.

“Good evening, nephew,” Declan replied, greeting Roman in his usual detached tone. He observed Roman cautiously, planning out the last minute details of his plan. Roman had come to dinner in his formal regalia, as always. That would have to be destroyed, it would be too easy to recognise if his body were to be found. Yes, some trousers such as the peasants wore would do just fine, but a shirt would not be necessary, he would freeze quicker without one.

Roman aimlessly recounted his day as they ate. Declan let himself look like he was listening, while he retreated into his own thoughts.

‘What was the best way to announce Roman’s death? How short should the official mourning period be without raising suspicions? A search party will be sent out tomorrow to make sure he has truly perished.’

“Uncle, I think I might retire early tonight,” Roman murmured, aimlessly pushing his half eaten food around his plate.

Declan looked up from his own meal. “Oh, is something the matter, nephew?”

“I seem to be feeling a little under the weather all of a sudden. May I be excused?”

“You may.”

No sooner had the words left Declan’s mouth than Roman was standing and stumbling out into the hallway.

Declan watched him leave, fighting to contain his joy. Everything was going according to plan. He was itching to follow Roman, to see his handiwork, but he stayed seated. It was better not to raise any suspicion.

The dining room was blissfully quiet without Roman’s overwhelming presence, and it was a peace that Declan could get used to very quickly. No sooner then he was sure that he had given Roman enough time to stumble back to his room was he out of his chair, under the guise of ‘concerned uncle checking on his nephew.’

The halls were fortunately empty, so Declan’s guise stayed firmly locked away. Roman’s room was barely a five minute walk from the dining hall, reassuring Declan that the ten minutes he had given Roman was more than enough time, even if Roman’s world was nauseatingly turning, as the physician said it would.

He came to a stop outside Roman’s door, listening for any signs of passerby before slipping into the room and sliding the lock into place.

Roman stood on the other side of the room, one hand braced against the wall as he clutched his head with the other. His expression was contorted into one of pain and he lifted a worry filled gaze to his uncle as he heard him enter.

“Uncle, I think I may require the healer, something is not right.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you see the healer, Roman.”

“What? W-why not?” Roman grimaced, gritting his teeth. His eyes were slowly closing as he physically fought to keep them open.

“Because that would mean ruining my own plan, and after all the work I put in that would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it?”

“You poisoned me? You monster, you fiend!” Roman pushed away from the wall, fighting to stay upright.

“Poisoned is such a harsh word, nephew.”

“Okay then, tried to murder me!” Roman retorted, stumbling as he took a step towards Declan.

“I think you’ve said enough. Sleep now.”

“I will not! You will not get away-“

“-Oh I already have. I’m bored of this back and forth. Goodbye, Prince Roman,” Declan spat, letting that grotesque grin stretch across his face as he kicked Roman’s legs out from under him.

Roman was unconscious before he hit the floor.


	3. Chapter 2

Darkness. It was all he knew. Had he ever known anything else? What happened? Where was he? It was so cold…

The boy tried to fight against the heaviness in his eyelids; it was almost as if they were actually made of lead. A sliver of light appeared after a little resistance. His eyes felt dry and sore, his head throbbed and ached and his limbs felt like stones.

What had happened?

He pushed himself into a sitting position, his stomach twisting nauseously. His vision tumbled and turned, trees bending and contorting into two visions before morphing back into their original form. Why was he in a forest? That’s where he was, right?

His eyes rolled back as a black cloud danced at the edge of his vision, forcing him to slump to the ground.

—–

The next time the boy woke the sun was setting, casting eerie elongated shadows along the forest floor. Trees surrounded him from every side, covered in a blanket of untouched snow. He himself was covered in the still falling snow, soaking through the ripped clothes he was wearing and chilling his already frozen skin. The never-ending questions his brain supplied didn’t help the pounding in his skull, making the world spin around him as he pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly.

He spun around as a low growl sounded from the trees, only serving to make his dizziness increase. The last few minutes of dying light provided little assistance in seeing the source of the sound, it being mostly blocked out by the overhead trees. He leaned forward slightly, squinting into the darkness.

And that’s when he felt his stomach drop.

A wolf emerged from the trees, drool dripping from its mouth as it snarled and snapped its jaws. Its stark white fur seemed even brighter illuminated by the now risen moon. It snarled again, sharp teeth flashing for a split second before it pounced, barrelling towards the still disorientated boy.

Oh no.

That wasn’t good…

Run… _run!_

The boy turned and bolted, weaving through the trees as best he could in his current state. The moonlight didn’t provide much help, barely breaking through the dense trees. His numb feet moved sluggishly, barely feeling the snow as he fled from the hound behind him. The heavy panting of the wolf sounded as though it was almost on top of the boy, despite his best efforts. He ran as fast as he could, but he kept stumbling and tripping over hidden tree roots and low branches.

However, all too quickly the tell-tale ache of exhaustion appeared in his legs and the burning begging for a rest emanated from his lungs. His pace slowed unbidden, but the growl from the wolf as it realised its prey was tiring spurred him back into action. The boy pushed on, stumbling more and more with every minute.

As he dodged another tree, a soft light came into view. In a clearing stood a candle, in a glass case, hung on a hook outside of a door. The boy breathed a sigh of relief, safety at last! Just a few more steps and he would be-

_His foot caught on a tree root, sending him tumbling to the ground with a hard thump as a cry of fear was ripped from his throat._

_No! Get up, get up, get up!_

But his head spun again, renewed panic only increasing the churning of his stomach as he tried to force himself back up. He clawed at the earth, a last desperate attempt to stand on shaky legs and run to safety that was agonisingly close.

Another, all too familiar, growl sounded from behind him, now much closer. He sighed, the last of his hope draining away.

This was going to be how he died.

The black cloud danced on the edges of his vision again, making his entire body feel heavy and sluggish. He shivered, letting his head hit the ground. The victorious growl of the wolf mixed with another sound he was too exhausted to recognise.

The yell of a person and the whine of the wolf didn’t register in his ears as his eyes slipped shut and his vision turned black.

—–

The first thing he felt was the softness of the sheets.

The first thing he heard was the crackling of the fire and…wait, hadn’t he been in a forest?

The first thing he saw was the low, sloping ceiling, seemingly made of a dark wood of rich colour, a wood that would be expensive and highly sought after.

…how did he know that?

The walls were made of a similar wood, though a lot of it was hidden behind overflowing bookshelves. The snow still silently fell outside a window on the opposite wall. Just the mere sight of the snow sent a cold shiver back into the boy’s bones but the fire in the corner gave off waves of warmth and comfort that easily distracted him from the feeling. The candle on the table next to his bed served to chase away the shadows, helping him remember he wasn’t lost in the forest any longer.

Yet, none of this helped to answer any of the many questions that his brain offered. He propped himself up into a sitting position before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, turning only to stop for a minute. The movement sent aches shooting all over his body but he had to push on if he wanted to find answer, so he stood on his shaking legs.

That was what caused the stranger hovering in the doorway to act. “Hey, what’re you doing?! You’re way too weak to stand yet, idiot!”

The boy jumped at the voice as a figure came rushing towards him, causing him to groan at the sharp shooting pain in his torso. “Ah, sorry,” the stranger apologised, gently helping the boy back into the bed.

“W-where a-am I?” he rasped out, throat feeling like sandpaper. The stranger had caused the boy to feel panic bloom in his chest. He knew he was at the stranger’s mercy, as he was too weak to fight against him. He may not be able to escape, but he could try and get some information.

The stranger snorted, eyeing the boy suspiciously, as though he could find an answer to the question that shone in his eyes through mere eye contact. “You don’t know? I thought someone like you would know this entire area, but…I guess not.”

“I-I don’t kn-know anythi-“ he started, cut off by a violent coughing fit that rattled in his chest.

The stranger turned to the nearby table, grabbing a glass of water and handing it to the boy, who grabbed it and drank deeply. The water felt heavenly as it soothed the aggravated flesh, greatly diminishing the pain that talking bought.

“You really don’t remember anything? At all?”

The boy shook his head. He was becoming more confused by the second. What didn’t he know, but more importantly, what had he forgotten?

The stranger was looking at him oddly again, like he was trying to see his every thought. It didn’t help the imposing figure he cut in the dim lighting, obscuring most of the features of his face. His piercing brown eyes seemed to cut through the darkness, occasionally hidden by a lock of hair that was quickly removed with a flick of his head.

The boy cleared his throat, sensing the tense atmosphere that was building. “I must extend my gratitude to you. I was-“

“Don’t mention it. I couldn’t leave you to be eaten by a wolf, I mean you’re…yeah,” the stranger spoke, turning back towards the door. “You need to eat, you’re pretty weak.”

The boy watched him with curiosity as he strode towards the door, his pace slightly hurried. On the threshold he stopped, placing his hands on the doorframe. For a moment, it was like time stopped, the crackling of the fire in the corner the only sound to break the silence.

“Y-you really don’t remember anything?” the stranger asked, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“No, I don’t,” the boy replied, voice just a quiet.

The stranger nodded, standing upright again and hurrying out of sight.

The boy sighed, his mind now whirling with more questions than when he had first woken. Yet, one repeatedly made it’s itself known:

_What don’t I remember?_


	4. Chapter 3

Virgil hurried from the room, mind frantically whirling. The Prince really didn’t remember anything? Virgil just couldn’t understand how that could happen. Of the hundreds of scenarios he had run through - since he had found the prince face down in the snow on the brink of death - not one of them had made sense.

There was no way the castle would let Prince Roman roam around the woods alone in daylight, let alone at night! No, and when paired with the fact that he had been wearing nothing more than a ripped shirt and just as equally ripped trousers, something didn’t add up.

Maybe the best idea was to keep Roman here, just until he’s healed and his memory returns…if it ever does. Something bad would happen if he was taken back to the castle, Virgil could feel it.

He slammed his hands down on the table, instantly flinching at the noise as his mind flew to the resting guest in the other room. Damn it, he was too used to his own company.

What was he here for again? Right, food!

Virgil hovered for a second, mentally searching his small excuse of a kitchen for a meal. This heavy winter the kingdom was under had severely damaged his food stock. The consistent snowfall stopped him from travelling to the nearest town, and turning to the few animals he owned was not an option Virgil would even entertain.

Which led him to cooking some bacon over the fireplace and offering it with a slice of bread. He cringed internally at the meager meal in front of him, Roman would be used to so much better, surely it was ingrained in him to accept only the finest foods.

But it was all Virgil had, and if Roman didn’t eat soon it could have dire consequences.

So, Virgil turned on his heel, and went to check on his guest.

Roman had managed to shift into a comfortable sitting position. Virgil noticed his eyes were no longer tainted with that sleepy glaze as he turned his head to face him, though they still looked confused and disorientated.

“H-here, you need your s-strength,” Virgil offered, holding the plate out towards Roman.

_‘Get it together, Virgil! You haven’t stuttered since you were fifteen!’_

Roman took the plate with a soft ‘thank you.’

Yet what Virgil saw next was a big relief while also greatly surprising him. Roman’s eyes seemed to turn ravenous as he dug into the food.

Virgil watched with shock as the plate sat empty moments later. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? How long had he been out in the forest for? Oh god, if he hadn’t found the prince he could have died. Then he’d have had blood his hands. He couldn’t have that no no no no no –

“-Thank you for that magnificent meal. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

That sent a shiver of panic through Virgil. What was going on?! Something was seriously wrong…

“Uh, you’re welcome I guess it’s the least I could do. You’re welcome to stay until you’re stronger, if you want that is.”

“Well, considering I was on the brink of death when you found me, I might just take you up on that offer,” Roman smiled, a teasing glint momentarily overtaking the confusion in his eyes.

Virgil smiled, it would take Roman a while to recover but he was glad to see the friendly streak that women all over the land fawned over wasn’t lost. “You really don’t remember anything…not even your name?”

Roman sighed, his head dropping. “I’m afraid I do not. My name, along with everything else, is a mystery to me. However, I am helpless until it returns, so I would like to know about my mysterious rescuer, if he is up to telling, that is.”

“What…me?”

“Who else? I don’t recall anyone else apparently dragging me to safety.”

Virgil sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He let himself lean forward, his arms coming to rest on his knees as his mind whirled and turned. Should he tell him?

No, he’d heard of cases where an amnesiac was pushed into remembering too soon…it could permanently damage them. Maybe…just keep the truth to himself for now.

_‘Come up with something, Virge! He’s waiting!’_

“I-uh-I lived in this cabin all my life. My parent’s left it to me when they passed. The garden out back is used to grow fruit and vegetables, which I sell in the nearby town when the need calls for it, I’m not a people person. So, that’s my mundane life I guess, there’s not much to it,” Virgil explained, a look of melancholy appearing at the thought of his parents.

“It must be hard living here by yourself. Don’t you ever get lonely?” Roman asked, his curious gaze burning into Virgil’s slightly panicked one. One slip up could mean permanent damage and a past he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“I mean, not really. Like I said, I’m not really a people person.”

Roman looked down at the bedsheets, pulling them taught as his hands curled into fists. “I feel like I wouldn’t be a people person either.”

_‘Oh Roman. If only you knew how wrong you are.’_

“The never-ending questions are killing me,” Roman admitted

Virgil glanced down uneasily at Roman’s fists. He could understand his frustration, not knowing anything about who you were. But Virgil did know, he knew the prince’s name… little hints couldn’t hurt, right?

“I have an idea. It won’t restore your memory but it might help answer some of your questions,” Virgil offered, turning his gaze to the fire. Looking away was a sure fire sign that Virgil was lying, but Roman didn’t know that.

“I’ll try anything if it will ease the number of these blasted questions!”

“Well, you said you don’t remember your name, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Maybe different letters or names could trigger something, a memory or feeling perhaps. It would at least answer one of your questions. If you want to do it that is, if not then its whatever.”

There was a moment of silence as Roman took in the idea. Virgil wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Of course Roman’s going to hate it, it’s a stupid idea!

“Well-“

_He hates it. He hates it!_

“I think it’s a magnificent idea! Where do we start?”

Virgil looked up. He liked it?! “Uh, well how about with letters? Maybe one of them will trigger something.”

“You’re a genius!”

They scanned through letters for a while, evaluating each letter before moving onto the next. Virgil watched helplessly as Roman became more and more agitated with every letter that passed.

“This is hopeless!” he cried, “we’re already at N and I don’t remember anything.”

Virgil sighed, raising a hand to push back the stray locks of hair. “You’re being overdramatic. We still have loads of letters to go, just stick with it to the end.”

“Urgh, fine.”

“O?”

“…No.”

“P?”

“Nothing.”

“Q?”

Roman gasped. “I think I have it!”

“Y-you do?” Virgil asked. How was that possible?

“Quinton!”

Virgil almost did a double take. “Quinton?”

“Yes! That’s my name, I just know it!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am!”

“Well why don’t we see this to the end, just to be sure.”

“Fine, I guess I have no choice.”

Virgil hesitated for a second. Where did Quinton come from? He didn’t know what he would do if Roman didn’t remember his actual name. “R?”

“Roman!”

“What?”

“My name, its Roman. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, it sounds a lot more normal than Quinton. Let’s go with that.”

“You must be psychic! How did you know to carry on?”

“…It was just a feeling. You should really get some rest now, Roman. We can talk in the morning,” Virgil replied, eager to leave so he could process the maddening turn of events.

“I guess you’re right,” Roman agreed, shifting to lie back down.

Virgil nodded and rose, making his way towards the doorway.

“Wait,” Roman said hurriedly, causing Virgil to pause in the doorway, “you never told me your name.”

Virgil smiled, staring ahead at the fire crackling in the main room. Roman was just as inquisitive as he remembered. “My name is Virgil.”


	5. Chapter 4

Declan paced the length of the throne room; his shoes clicking against the stone floor was the only sound in the otherwise maddeningly quiet room. His expression held a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration as his eyes repeatedly flicked to the door before wandering again.

The moon had risen long ago, yet he had still received no word from the guards involved in Roman’s demise. He would not rest until he was sure that the plan was successful, and his nephew was no longer breathing.

Still, the battle to keep his mind focused was one he quickly lost. Declan’s mind became filled with dreams of the illustrious use of his new power, the limitations he had been under as Roman’s guardian making it feel even sweeter. Dreams of bending the kingdom to his will played in his head in perfect clarity. They would mourn the loss of their beloved Prince Roman, but proceedings would quickly return to normal and that was when he would strike.

By the time he was done, his friends would be the wealthiest they’d ever been, and the villagers…they were inconsequential. Watching over them for many years had made him realise: they were merely ants, and he was the boot that would crush them. Surely, for him to gain at the expense of a few was understandable-

A quiet knock at the door pulled Declan from his thoughts.

He spun towards the sound, composing his expression into one of detached interest, before calling for whoever was there to enter. The sight of the five guards he had trusted with Roman’s disappearance sent his heart rate skyrocketing.  

“Is it done?” Declan asked, his voice bouncing of the walls and seeming all the more louder in the late hour.

“It is, your majesty.” one of the guards answered. In the moment, Declan would have said the guard’s name escaped him, but the truth was that he had never known it in the first place.

“Return to the woods in a few days. It is imperative that his death be successful.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Declan nodded, turning away. “You may leave. Oh, and if any of you breathe a word of this to anyone you won’t see the next sunrise.”

The guards said no more, quickly scuttling from the room and pulling the door shut with a dull thud. As the conversation died, silence settled in the room again, making the air seem heavy with something that Declan couldn’t quite decipher.

Declan’s gaze rose to the stained-glass window at the end of the hall, high above the throne. Moonlight shone through it, lighting up the image of King Arthur and the knights of the round table. The glass patterns were reflected onto the stone floor, leaving lines of darkness as they chopped and changed. Declan wondered which of his ancestors had commissioned it, he had never cared his family history, they were all dead anyway.

Declan grinned, grotesquely contorting his expression into one of malice.

And soon, if not already, Roman would join his ancestors, just like his parents had when Declan had conspired for their deaths.

His plan was going smoothly, only a few more days to go…


	6. Chapter 5

s the bitter coldness of winter melted away to the slight breeze of spring, Roman became stronger. He grew to know Virgil better than he knew himself, which could cause Virgil to usually lightly bat him round the head and call him a dimwit.

The lighter nights led to Roman taking his first supported steps across the creaky wooden floor and out into the quaint front room, a comforting new setting with its crackling fire and animal hides that served as throws and blankets. The supported steps progressed into walking by himself as he healed into a shell of his former self. It was evident that while his physical wounds healed and faded, his mental ones seemed to cut deeper. Waking tangled in the bedsheets with a scream ripped from his throat, Roman dreamed of the snapping jaws of the wolf and flashes of yellow.

A dash of cold air would wrench away any confidence he made, sending him into a horrifying flashback that was impossible to escape without Virgil’s calming words, trapping him in his first new memory for hours.

However, each day bought more and more progress. Which bought the question: What now?

Roman sat at the table in the kitchen, absentmindedly switching between wringing his hands and drumming his fingers against the wood. A million thoughts ran through his head as he stared out of the window, looking over the slowly growing garden.

Being cooped up in the small cottage was starting to take its toll on Roman. Sure, he was still healing but if he didn’t get outside soon he was going to go insane! He sighed, letting his head lower and rest against the table.

“Everything okay, Roman?” The voice that Roman had come to associate with Virgil drifted into the room. Roman answered with a groan, slightly muffled by the table.

Virgil chuckled, his voice moving around the room. “That bad?”

“Yes! I am losing my mind cooped up in here!”

“You mean you’re losing what’s left of it.”

“Oh, ha ha, you’re such a comedian, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged, “Just stating the truth, Roman.”

There was silence for a few seconds, the kind of silence one could take comfort in.

“But I do need to talk to you.”

Roman’s head whipped round. Talk to him? Was something wrong? “I’m all ears.”

“Well…” Virgil looked away, fidgeting with the loose sleeves of his shirt, “this is going to sound really weird.”

“Oh goodness you’re not pregnant, are you?” Roman exclaimed.

“What? Roman, no I’m not pregnant. That’s impossible!”

“Woah, calm down, dark and stormy. I was just trying to lighten the mood! Our entire meeting could be classed as weird. Whatever you’re going to say, I think I can handle it,” Roman replies, his nonchalant tone hiding the anxiety and worry that stirred just below the surface.

“The thing is…you’re in my bed.”

“…I beg your pardon.”

“Well,” ****Virgil looked away, but not before Roman caught a glimpse of the bright blush that had settled, “When I first brought you here I really didn’t know if you were going to make it and my room was better suited for me to take care of you, but now that you’re, well…” Virgil threw out his arms, gesturing to Roman. “You don’t need to stay there anymore. I’m not kicking you out or anything, I have a spare room, I just thought maybe I could have my room back?”

Roman blinked, trying to process his friend’s words, “I’ve been in your bed this whole time? I’ve been well enough to move around for at least a month, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know…I didn’t want to seem rude.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Virgil, it’s _your_ bed.”

“I know that Roman! It’s just…” Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair before moving around to sit down opposite Roman. “I would have done anything to make sure you survived, and I still would. If giving up my bed was what it took to help you then I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Roman sat there, stunned. A heartfelt outpouring was the last thing he’d expected from Virgil. Sure, he’d been more than kind to Roman by taking him in, but in the months he’d known him Virgil hadn’t once mentioned anything remotely personal. “I-uh-I mean-“

Virgil raised his hand. “It’s okay. I know it’s a lot to take in,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “C’mon, I’ll show you the guest room.” He stood, leaving a still stunned Roman to obediently follow.

The guest room was quaint, yet it felt devoid of personality, of feeling. Roman would have likened it to a blank piece of paper: it was brimming with potential and could be the base of great things with some time and thought.

Dust covered almost every surface, making the room seem dimmer. The wooden shutters were firmly closed and locked as beams of light shone through the slits.

It was obvious the room hadn’t been used in many years and had been allowed to fall into disrepair. Yet, Roman had no idea why.

The floorboards creaked and groaned ominously as he passed Virgil and stepped into the room. The air felt stuffy and warm despite it only being early spring.

The creaking of the floorboards behind Roman signalled Virgil’s entrance, yet the room stayed silent.

A million questions ran through Roman’s mind, although he knew better than to ask, but the silence had to be broken at some point.

“Thank you, Virgil. For this, for everything.”

Virgil moved forward, standing beside Roman before turning to face him. “I couldn’t let you die out there. Anyone would have done the same.”

Roman turned away, tears rising in his eyes. A strange feeling in his gut told him that no, most people wouldn’t have done the same. “This isn’t how I expected today to go.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil chuckled, seemingly unaware of Roman’s distress.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did,” Roman replied, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Virgil’s tone turned soft, almost hesitant. “Roman, are you okay?”

Roman threw his hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle another sob that had Virgil rushing around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Roman sobbed, lifting his other hand to wipe away the tears that fell.

“Hey, no,” Virgil started, planting his hands on Roman’s shoulders, “Whatever you’re feeling right now is completely valid, not bad, not strange, not stupid. Talk to me.”

Roman took a shaky breath. “I-I was sure that this was the end.”

“The end?”

“The end of this! The end of the last few months..”

Virgil stepped backwards, letting his hands fall limp at his sides. “Wait, you thought I was kicking you out?”

“What was I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know! I-“ Virgil scrubbed at his face, “I don’t want you to leave, unless you want to. I like your company, which is something I don’t say often. So…I’d like it if you stayed.”

“I’d love to stay. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Virgil smiled. “Looks like I’ll have some company for a bit longer then. Now, are we going to stand around all day or clean up this room?”

Roman looked around, his vibrancy slowly returning as he shot Virgil a dazzling smile. “You’re right! C’mon dark and stormy, we’ll have this place cleaned up in no time.”

As Roman worked, his mind wandered to the one matter it couldn’t drop. He wondered why his memory still hadn’t returned, why his mind felt like a blank slate, why he feels like a big part of him was lost, never to be found.

He wondered what his dreams meant, the flashes of a crisp, white suit, of an imposing silhouette standing over him.

But most importantly, he wondered who he had been before.


	7. Chapter 6

“Virgil, you really don’t have to do this.”

“Do you _want_ to stay in ripped clothes?”

“Well, no-“

“-Then shut up and let me look,” Virgil replied, rooting through the chest. Occasionally a piece of clothing would fly in Roman’s direction before Virgil returned to his task.

Roman absentmindedly scuffed his bare foot against the wooden floor, patiently waiting for Virgil to decide he’d found some acceptable clothes for him. The threadbare shirt and trousers he had woken in were quickly becoming impractical, which lead to Virgil digging through the chest. Roman doubted Virgil even had anything that would fit him, with his build being a little more…muscular than his friends.

Virgil stood, holding up a piece of billowing white fabric. “Here, this was always too big on me, so it should fit you,” he explained, throwing the item in Roman’s general direction.

Roman scrabbled to catch the cloth, gripping it tightly as his fingers closed around it. Holding it up, the fabric unfurled into a white poet shirt with billowing sleeves that tightened at the wrist.

Seconds later, a black piece of clothing flew his way. Roman, prepared this time, caught it with ease. Tucking the poet shirt under his arm, Roman unfurled the black fabric to find loose fitting trousers, not unlike Virgil’s own.

“There,” Virgil sighed, slamming the chest shut with a dull thud.

“Thank you, Virge,” Roman smiled, placing the clothes on the guest room bed.

“Don’t mention it,” Virgil shrugged, heading for the door. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.” He pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Roman alone.

—

“Will this do?” Roman asked as he left the bedroom. The clothes fitted like a dream, it made Roman wonder why Virgil would keep hold of clothes that obviously didn’t fit him but he brushed the question aside.

Virgil jumped at the voice, his pen sending a splatter of ink across the page. Roman went to apologise but was quickly cut off by Virgil’s insistency that it didn’t matter.

“I can write it out again,” Virgil explained, scrunching up the paper.

Roman took a seat at the table, opposite Virgil. “What were you writing?”

“A letter.”

“To who?”

“Oh, no one important.”

Roman shrugged, brushing it off. Virgil being a secretive person was no surprise, it had unnerved him at first, but it was something he’d come to live with.

A comfortable silence settled between the two, one that that didn’t permeate the air with the urgency to be broken. Yet, Roman felt the questions gather on his tongue. He shifted in his seat, was now a good time to ask? He hadn’t had many chances to voice his ever growing list of questions.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Roman asked, trying to conceal the surprise in his voice. How did Virgil always know when he was plagued with thoughts and worries?

“You fidget when you’re thinking and you’ve changed positions five times in the last three minutes.”

Had he? Roman hadn’t noticed. Did Virgil really know him that well?

“Roman, you’re doing it again.”

Roman sighed, scrubbing at his face. He really needed to get his head together, lest he let his mind run and never return. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

Roman smirked, lifting a hand to hide it. “I was thinking about the town.”

Virgil looked taken aback, “The town?”

“Yes, you mentioned a town the first night I was here. You said you go into it occasionally, but I’ve been here for months and you’ve never gone further than a 5 minute walk.”

Now Virgil was the one to shift in his seat. “What’re you getting at, Roman?”

“I don’t know, I’m just curious,” Roman shrugged, absentmindedly picking at his nails.

“Curious about what?” Virgil asked, the frustration gradually building in his voice.

“The kingdom you mentioned, the western town. I’m so confused, I don’t remember any of it!” Roman exclaimed, his anger and confusion rolling off him in waves.

Virgil’s expression softened as the realisation appeared on his features. Before he could speak, Roman jumped in.

“I feel like i’m one step behind the rest of the world, it carries on turning while i’m stuck in this cloud of confusion!I feel like I should know things, but I don’t! I feel like I know nothing about my own life, what I’m doing, where I’ve been, what I’ve done. I don’t know about this land that is apparently my home, I don’t know anything about you, the man who saved me, hell I don’t even know if this is actually my name!” Roman felt his voice crack as he mentioned his name.

He turned around, hiding himself from his only friend, as he felt tears pool in his eyes for the second time this week.

“Roman, I-”

“Please, just tell me something, anything! This blank slate in my mind is driving me to madness.”

Virgil sighed, looking away. “I can’t tell you much about yourself, only you can figure that out. But i can tell you about your home.”

Roman wiped away the tears, waiting expectantly. Any information he could get would be better than the empty space that lived inside his head.

They sat silently for a few moments. As Roman watched Virgil, he could almost see the cogs turning in his head.  

“Where to begin,”the Virgil asked, before trailing off, and then Roman could see the glint in his eye as he figured out exactly where to begin.

Roman watched with rapt attention as Virgil began telling him a beautiful story of this kingdom Roman apparently lived in. Virgil told him of the towering castles, legends whispered around campfires, the beautiful landscapes that could be seen from the peaks of the tallest mountains, and of the kind people that lived in most villages surrounding the castle despite the hardships they now faced.

As Roman listened to the heartbreaking tales of the nearby villagers and their famine, he vaguely registered the sound of rain changing from a gentle pitter to a howling storm.  

“Why don’t the rulers do something about it?” Roman asked, furious that the monarch of the land was leaving their people to starve.

Virgil looked away, gritting his teeth. “The king isn’t what anyone would call a nice person. He’s more of… an F word face”

“Is there no one else that can help?”

“There should be, he’s not the true heir after all.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“The true heir is the prince, but he was hidden away by his uncle.”

“Well, why doesn’t he take back the power? A prince needs to show a little bravery sometimes.”

Virgil looked up, staring intently at Roman, like he was searching for an answer to an unspoken question. “I don’t know…but his usual escapades beyond the castle walls have stopped, no one knows why.”

Roman sat there, processing all the information. This prince sounded as bad as his uncle, if things were really as bad as Virgil said then he should step up and take charge. But…Roman got the feeling it wasn’t as simple as that. There was this odd feeling stirring-

-Suddenly, a deep roll of thunder filled the air, followed immediately by the crack of lightning. Roman turned to face the window, watching with fascination as the lighting lit up the late afternoon sky.

The thunder crashed again, causing a cry of fear to sound from behind him. Roman turned to see Virgil shaking, staring out the window with fear filled eyes.

“Virgil, what’s wrong?” Roman asked, rushing towards the shaking figure.

Virgil nodded, scrunching his eyes up, yet the violent shake of his hand revealed otherwise.

“I don’t think you are,” Roman countered, placing a tentative hand on Virgil’s shoulder. The thunder rolled again, and Virgil jumped up. He clung to Roman’s shirt, practically vibrating with fear.

Roman went to move away until he realised what happened, causing him to freeze. Slowly, his arms tightened around Virgil’s waist, wrapping him in a protective hold.

They were still stood there as the rain gave way to a clear night sky.


	8. Chapter 7

Declan lounged on the throne, languidly stretching in the warm sunlight that shone through the high windows. The tense apathy he showed as the king was wiped away, leaving only the smug look that was not unlike a child who has evaded punishment for breaking the rules. Before Declan took the throne, it was odd to find the king sitting in the throne room if there was no formal event. Yet, Declan had strayed from tradition. He liked spending time in there, it reminded him of the power he wielded. Any servant was more likely to find him in there than his own private quarters.

Thoughts of the late Prince Roman flooded his mind. Questions about Roman’s absence were starting to stir, and soon a statement would be required. Oh, what a tragedy Roman’s heroic death would be!

As much as he detested it, there would have to be a mourning period, it would look suspicious if there wasn’t. The sooner it was over the better. Yet, this time he was experienced, Declan had found faking grief has came naturally to him when his brother passed. So doing the same for Roman’s death should be delightfully easy.

He couldn’t believe how easy it had all been, the plan had been years in the making and had carried out without a hitch, which greatly pleased Declan. The aftershock were to soon follow but they would be simple, a few tears at opportune moment would placate the grieving people.

A knock on the throne room door pulled Declan from his thoughts. He righted himself, sitting up in the chair and composing his expression into a state of detachment. “Enter,” he called, training his eyes upon the door.

Three of the guards walked in, and Declan sat up that bit straighter. The fear in their eyes after what had happened to their companion was evident, it made Declan push down a grin of delight. They bowed low, and Declan let that grin break out for a moment before expertly hiding it again before they rose.

Declan waited as they exchanged glances before the middle guard stepped forward, his footsteps on the stone echoing in the silent room. “Your majesty, we scanned the woods for any signs of Prince Roman and found none.”

“So the plan has worked?” Declan asked, using his normal tone of disinterest as he directed his gaze to the windows high above.

“It would seem so, Sire.”

“Good. Now forget about what you have done,” he commanded, turning his burning gaze onto them, “or face the consequences.” An unspoken threat tainted Declan’s words, if they didn’t keep quiet they would share the same fate as their comrade. The three guards nodded before bowing again and hurrying from the room.

Declan felt ecstatic at the news. His plan had officially been a grim success! He stood, striding across the room and into the hall. It would seem he had some work to do, the statement of Roman’s death wouldn’t write itself…


	9. Chapter 8

The first thing Roman noticed was the feeling of the warm sunlight hitting his face. He sighed, savouring the pleasant feeling before rolling over. Consciousness slowly pulled all his senses out from under the blanket of haziness that came hand in hand with sleep, making Roman groan as he realised he would have to leave the comfort of his bed sooner rather than later.

He sighed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side. His ears strained to find the sounds he usually woke up to, footsteps as Virgil moved around, the slight humming that only just permeated the walls and reached his ears.

Yet there was nothing.

Roman frowned, unused to the unsettling silence. After getting used to Virgil’s presence the lack of it was…odd. He sighed, stretching the last remnants of sleep from his muscled before making his way out into the main room, looking around in curiosity. There were only so many places Virgil could be, surely it wouldn’t take Roman long to find him.

A familiar sound reached Roman’s ears, a bird cheerily chirping. He turned, his brows furrowing as he followed the sound to it’s source. He had not seen or heard one single bird since he had started living with Virgil, it hadn’t been warm enough to stay out long enough to listen. Well, it looked like he wouldn’t have to look for Virgil after all, Roman leaned against the wooden door frame as the sound led him to his friend. Virgil was on his knees in the mid-morning sun, settling a small pile of soil around what looked to be some type of herb. There was a line of them, all identical.

Roman looked round in subdued wonder, the garden would be beautiful once all the flowers and plant bloomed and grew, he wasn’t sure how but he could just tell. Lines of both empty and planted flower bed stretched across the garden, leaving a slight grassy area next to the house. Roman wondered how long it had took Virgil to keep up with all of it.

Speaking of Virgil, he seemed enveloped in his own world, his eyes intently focused on the task at hand.

“You seem busy,” Roman spoke.

Virgil jumped, his gaze whipping up to face Roman. “Don’t do that! You almost have me a heart attack!” Virgil exclaimed, making Roman chuckle. “And to answer your question, I am busy. All of these plants need to be planted as soon as possible, you want to help?”

Roman nodded, taking a seat next to Virgil.

“All of these beds need to be full within the next few days, so the food will be ready for the harvest season.”

“You seem to know you stuff,” Roman stated, automatically working to manipulate the soil and plant the herb, which he now recognised as sage, a herb used for medicinal purposes.

Virgil nodded. “I’ve been doing it for years. It helps me go into town less.”

Roman sniggered, “you really don’t like people, huh?”

“Neither would you if you were me,” Virgil mumbled, a glassy look taking over his eyes, which Roman missed.

“I can’t say I blame you,” Roman shrugged.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, working around each other as they moved along the beds. The sun slowly rose higher and higher, bringing with it a pleasant warmth that promised that warmer days were approaching.

The sun was reaching it’s peak when Virgil spoke again. He sat up from where he had been hunched over one of the many vegetables they had been planting, stretching his back with and audible groan.

He glanced over at Roman, watching with interest as he gently worked with the plant. “Y’know, you’re pretty good at that. Well, better than I expected you to be at least.”

“Thank you, it just seems to come naturally to me,” Roman smiled, sitting back and taking in his work. They had worked well together, quickly cutting through half of the workload in a few hours.

“Really? You’ve never done it before?” Virgil asked.

“Well, I –“ Roman didn’t know what happened after that. His head became fuzzy as it nauseously whirled. His arms shot out, searching for something to cling onto before his eyes rolled back and his consciousness faded…

_Roman knelt down in the grass, watching intently as a delicate flower was placed among many others of varying colour and type. It was a sea of colours that swayed in the breeze, captivating Roman’s ten-year-old mind._

_“You must be careful, Roman. Flowers are delicate creatures. They live and breathe as we do. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes, mother,” Roman nodded, eyes full of wonder as he watched her gently plant another flower, what his mother told him was a pink carnation._

_Footsteps crunching on the gravel behind them caused Roman to turn to see the smiling face of his father approaching them._

_“Having fun out here?” he asked, kneeling down bedside Roman._

_Roman nodded. “The flowers are so pretty!”_

_“So they are,” his father chuckled, eyes scanning over the sea of flowers, “though they require great care, they are a sight when they blossom.”_

_“Stay and plant some with us!” Roman exclaimed, tugging on his father’s jacket._

_The king smiled before standing. “I wish I could Roman, but I have business to attend to. Some other time, I promise.” He made his way over to Roman’s mother, before whispering something to her that was unintelligible to the young prince. Her content smile faded as she glanced up at her husband before nodding in agreement to whatever he’d said._

_With that, the King turned and left, his footsteps crunching the gravel underfoot. The Queen back to Roman, her bright smile returning._

_“Let’s carry on, shall we dear?”_

_—–_

_A fifteen-year-old Roman stared solemnly out the window of his uncle’s bedchambers. Rain poured from the sky and tapped lightly against the window as it fell. Roman quietly sighed, it was almost funny how the weather could perfectly match his mood._

_He watched as the people his uncle hired dug up and destroyed his only memory of his parents. The dead flowers were pulled up carelessly and thrown to the ground. He wanted to run out there and scream at them to stop, scream at them that they were stealing one of his last places that was full of happy memories._

_But he didn’t do any of that, it would be not be behaviour that was ‘befitting of a prince.’_

_A hand settled on his shoulder, one that he instantly wanted to shrug off. “It’s for the best, Roman. The garden had fallen into disrepair. Now we can put it to good use,” his uncle explained. Roman thought he didn’t sound the least bit sorry._

_“The only reason it fell into disrepair was because you wouldn’t let me, or anyone else, tend to it.”_

_The hand on his shoulder tightened it’s grip slightly. “It was for your own safety, anything could have happened,” Declan answered._

_Roman turned, brushing off Declan’s grip. “That’s bullshit!”_

_His uncle’s eyes darkened. “Roman, go to your room. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.”_

_Roma stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him with a loud thud…_

“Roman? Roman! ROMAN!”

He squinted as light filtered around the figure hovering above him and hit his eyes. What had happened? Why was he on the floor? He’d been helping Virgil, hadn’t he?

“Are you okay?”

His gaze flicked to Virgil, who was worriedly hovering over him. Roman nodded, still finding his voice and he cautiously sat up, with Virgil’s help. “I think so.”

“What the hell happened? One minute everything was fine and the next you’re passed out on the floor. You almost gave me a heart attack, Roman!”

“I remembered a memory.”

Virgil stared at him for a second, jaw in a mid-sentence drop. “You remembered? What was the memory about?”

“I’m not sure, it was very vague. There were flowers, lots of them, and a woman with a kind smile, I think she was my mother. Then there was rain and an overwhelming feeling of sadness. I don’t know why but I just wanted to cry, it was heart-breaking.”

“That’s…odd,” Virgil replied. Something too quick to identify flashed in his eyes. He stood, offering his hand to Roman. “C’mon, we should get you inside.”

Roman glanced at Virgil suspiciously before taking the offered hand. He’d expected Virgil to be interested, remembering was a big thing after all. He hadn’t expected his friend to immediately change the subject.

Something wasn’t right…and Roman had no clue what it was.


	10. Chapter 9

Virgil sat at the table, deep in thought. His thoughts were whipped into a whirlwind of confusion, which he knew was only served to worsen in the coming months. He was positive that saving Roman had been a good thing, but it had also bought a never ending stream of questions too.

Living with a prince, even one who had lost his memory, had been hard to get used to but Virgil had to admit it was nice to have some company after living alone for so long. Roman’s presence was comforting, a feeling that Virgil had gotten used to all too quickly.

A knock at the door startled Virgil from his thoughts.

He stood up slowly, cautiously eyeing the door. That was…odd. The whole reason he lived in isolation was to avoid people knocking at his door.

So why was someone knocking now?

He inched down the hallway, his gaze burning a figurative hole through the door. Had someone found Roman? Did they think Virgil had kidnapped him? Would a bag be thrown over his head the moment he opened the door? A million other scenarios ran through his head, each one worse than the last.

The floorboards creaked under his weight, making him cringe. Well, now they definitely knew he was there. Virgil sighed, steeling himself, and flung open the door.

On the other side stood a bored looking postman, holding a letter out to him. Virgil jumped back as he tried to calm his racing heart. He sighed, taking the letter and thanking the man before shutting the door again.

The letter felt heavy in his hands. The looping writing that almost resembled calligraphy was all too familiar to him, and it had always been the bearer of bad news. Virgil sat back down at the kitchen table, letting the letter fall out of his hands and onto the wood. His mind whirled and stomach twisted as he stared intently at the letter, as though he was trying to magically destroy it’s existence.  

He sighed, picking it back up. The sooner he opened it the better, dragging it out would only make bearing the news even more painful. He broke the seal of interlocking leaves and unfolded the letter.

The handwriting varied greatly from the elegant lettering on the front. It was messier, as though it had been written in a rush. The looping of the letters was the same though, with a carefree air about it.

Virgil hesitated for a second before starting to read.

_Dear Virgil,_

_Hello V! We haven’t talked in ages and I miss you, though I hate to have to write you over this. Me and Logan Logan and I have received word of Prince Roman’s passing. I know you two used to be close when you were children, and that news travels slowly to you in your cottage. If you ever need anything I am here for you, please write soon. You are always welcome to stay with me and Logan Logan and I whenever you like._

_With all my heart,_

_Patton_

_xxx_

Virgil threw away the piece of paper as though it had burned him. What did Patton mean? Roman wasn’t dead. He was safely asleep in the other room…right? Virgil stood, nervously eyeing the closed guest room door.

He stepped towards it, the floorboards creaking ominously. The air seemed to have turned heavy, making the room seem hot and stuffy. He closed his hand around the door handle, silently turning it and inching the door open.

There, Roman lay, fast asleep in bed.

Virgil let out a sigh of relief, the tendrils of doubt that Roman had been there at all quickly dispersing. At least he had time to think this all over before Roman woke.

The letter said that Roman was dead, like they were _sure_ of it. Yet, Roman wasn’t dead, he was sleeping in Virgil’s guest room. So the question begged, _why_ did the royal household think the heir to the throne was dead? Something must have happened, and Virgil didn’t know if he wanted to find out. Something just didn’t seem right.

Virgil’s gaze flicked to the letter on the table. Although…maybe this could work to their advantage. His cousins…group needed a morale boost and a prince could give them that push to finally-

He’d have to write Logan a letter.

But first, he had to hide the one he’d received. Virgil snatched it from the table, looking frantically around the room. Roman could not see this letter under any circumstances, it would cause him to ask too many questions that Virgil didn’t have answers to. He headed into his bedroom and dropped to his knees before pulling out a small, wooden box. It was decorated with elegant engravings, the most expensive thing Virgil owned, an heirloom from his parents. He placed the letter inside and closed the lid.

“Virgil?”

Virgil jumped, hastily pushing the box back under the bed and out of sight. Spinning to face the doorway, he sighed in relief. Roman had sleepily stumbled into the kitchen, out of the view of Virgil’s room.

He stood, leaning against the doorway. It was best to act like nothing had happened, lest risk Roman becoming suspicious. “Good morning…or should I say afternoon.”

Roman turned, catching sight of Virgil. “Haha, very funny,“ Roman quipped, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table.

"Well, it’s not like you to get up this late,” Virgil replied, desperately grasping at anything to divert Roman’s attention from his suspicious actions.

“If you must know, I didn’t sleep well. A very odd dream woke me, it was hard to fall back to sleep,” Roman replied, rubbing his forehead.

“A dream? What was it about?”

Roman turned his gaze to the window, his eyes becoming glassy as he recounted the dream. “I was on a balcony, overlooking an expansive city. Beyond that was a forest that stretched beyond the horizon, a few small towns were nestled inside.” Roman raised his hand as if he was reaching out towards something that went unseen by everyone but him. “Then…someone called my name. I turned to face them, but I woke up before I could see their face.” Roman dropped his hand, turning his gaze to the table.

Virgil was frozen, his eyes wide. He hastily composed himself before Roman saw the look of realization that flitted across his face. That was no dream, it was painfully obvious, it had been one of Roman’s many lost memories. He was standing in the castle, looking down on the main city and the surrounding towns. Who had placed their hand on his shoulder was still a mystery to Virgil but that wasn’t what was bothering him at that moment. Roman had remembered. Sure, he didn’t know he had remembered but it was still a step in the right direction. What else was going to return to Roman without his knowledge?

“Virgil?”

“Huh?”

“I said it was weird.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Really weird,” Virgil murmured, looking away just in time to miss the suspicious glance that Roman sent his way. He needed some air. Turning, he made his way towards the garden as a cyclone of questions ran through his mind. He’d made the decision, it was too late now. He’d help Roman regain his memory, there must be something that would help. And Virgil wouldn’t rest until he found it.  


	11. Chapter 10

Virgil gripped the stick in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he gazed at the doorway. His frustration has reached a record high. Almost a month had passed since the incident with the letter and Virgil had made no progress with slyly helping Roman retrieve his memory.

Which led him to his last-ditch attempt. Helping Virgil with the garden had jogged Roman’s memory, maybe sword fighting would too. Roman had always loved sword fighting, it fit in perfectly with his heroic attitude. So, Virgil thought that safely re-enacting a swordfight may trigger some kind of memory. It had to, Virgil had no more ideas.

But…how was he going to do it without letting Roman onto his intentions? He had been thinking about it, maybe it was time to come clean with Roman. Just with this one idea…

“Roman!” Virgil called.

“Yes?” Roman replied, appearing in the doorway seconds later.

“I-uh-I..” Virgil stuttered, his heart pounding. Suddenly this didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“Why are you holding a stick?”

Virgil sighed, letting his hand drop to his sides. It was too late to back out now, he’d just look stupid. “I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“You remember when you regained that memory, in the garden?”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “How could I forget?”

“Well, maybe this could do the same thing.”

“You think this will help regain my memory?”

Virgil shrugged, offering the stick for Roman to take. “It’s worth a try.”

Roman eyed the stick Virgil held warily before taking it. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” He laughed, shaking his head.

Virgil looked away, a sickening wave of embarrassment quickly rising. This was a bad idea, he’d been unsure about it from the start, and now Roman was laughing at him. He sighed, storming past Roman. “Forget it, it was stupid anyway.”

“Woah, Virgil. Wait!” Roman exclaimed, turning and grasping Virgil’s arm.

Virgil tugged his arm from Roman’s grip but stopped nonetheless.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear. If I hurt your feelings, I apologise, but I do want to try this. I’ll try anything if it’ll helps my memory to return.”

Virgil sighed, risking a glance at Roman. The royal did look sincere, and it was possible that he had taken it the wrong way, a trait that had been a bad habit when he was younger. With another, bigger sigh, he returned to his place in front of Roman. He picked up the nearby stick, that had originally been meant for Roman, and looked up, catching eye contact with the other.

“Fine, but if you laugh again I’m acting like this whole idea never happened,” Virgil explained.

“Deal,” Roman smiled. “So is there any reasoning behind your magnificent idea?”

Viirgil shot a glare Roman’s way, but didn’t make any move to leave. “I was thinking an i have an idea of where you came from.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“From the way you speak, i think you came from a wealthy family.”

“How did you get that from the way i speak?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Have you heard yourself speak, Roman? You sound like you jumped out of a fantasy novel.”

“I do not!” Roman gasped, placing his hand against his heart.

“…you just proved my point.”

“Get on with it!”

Virgil couldn’t hide the grin that fought past his defences and stretched across his face. “So, wealthy families always teach their sons to swordfight. If you were taught to swordfight maybe this will bring back some memories.”

“How do you know all this?” Roman asked, looking utterly shocked and impressed.

Virgil hesitated, he wasn’t expecting Roman to ask for his reasoning and he certainly couldn’t tell him that he knew all of this because he’d grown up watching Roman learn to swordfight. “It’s just a guess, everyone knows that wealthy sons are taught to swordfight.”

Roman shrugged, “let’s do this, then.”

“I’m going to warn you, i won’t go easy on you. My father was the king’s head swordsman,” Virgil said before tensing up. Oh god, he’d given himself away hadn’t he? Roman was going to know exactly who he was! Yet, Roman looked interested yet ignorant with no sign that he knew that Virgil had given himself away. Virgil let out a mental sigh of relief, that could have forced Roman to remember, and while that was good, Virgil didn’t know if he was ready for his childhood friend to specifically remember him.

He pulled himself back into the present and shook off the panic that had sunk into his muscles. What Roman didn’t know was that while watching him grow up learn Virgil’s father had taught his son some tricks of his own. He lunged forward, bringing the stick down as he would have done with a real sword. Roman bought his own weapon up to block Virgil’s attack. A look of amazement flitted across Roman’s features as his hands seemed to work of their own accord as he blocked attack after attack from Virgil, who spun, lunged and pivoted around his opponent.

Yet, Roman blocked them all easily as he dodged on flawless footwork and bought his ‘sword’ around to connect with Virgil’s side. He grinned at Virgil’s shocked expression.

Virgil recovered quickly, attacking with a renewed vigour.

One attack, Roman blocked yet stepped backwards.

Two attacks, Roman shakily blocked and stumbled.

Three attacks, Roman’s defence shattered and Virgil took his chance. Rushing forward, he tackled Roman to the ground, straddling his hips as he grinned victoriously.

“I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you,” Virgil tormented, hands planted either side of Roman’s head. It had been a challenge, one he wasn’t expecting to win, but one he had won nonetheless. He had bested the prince who was known as the best swordsman in the land, and the disbelief in his eyes conveyed that he still couldn’t quite believe it.

“You weren’t kidding. You made me look like a dunce!” Roman laughed as he tried to catch his breath. His weapon lay thrown aside as Virgil’s victorious smirk towered over him.

“Well, I’m not going to lie. That was definitely my intention,” Virgil replied. As his breathing slowed and regulated, Roman’s own heaving breaths below him became noticeable. Virgil felt the air tense and shift as they both recovered, his gaze sliding up to meet Roman’s. They were close, close enough for Virgil to sense something stir in his chest. He suspected Roman had felt something too by the way his eyes widened.

But what was it?

Virgil wasn’t sure that he wanted to find out.

He jumped up, a blush rapidly rising his on his cheeks. Roman took the hand he offered and let Virgil pull him to his feet. He stumbled slightly as he shot Virgil a knowing glance.

“Virgil, I-“

“-I’ve got to go…sort some things out,” Virgil cut in, hurrying inside and leaving Roman standing on the grass.


	12. Chapter 11

Virgil watched as the sun dropped below the horizon, the pinks and oranges of the sunset fading into the dark blue of the night. Roman had been oddly absent in the days following the sword fighting encounter, which had been an odd change from the comforting noise that usually drifted from one room or the other.

Yet, the cottage was oddly silent. Virgil thought he’d heard Roman retire to his room for the night not long ago, leaving him to sit alone with the cyclone of questions that ran rampant in his mind.

He ran a hand through his hair as he watched the sunset, submitting himself to a night of many questions and few answers. He wouldn’t sleep, he _couldn’t_ sleep until he’d eased the whirling in his mind and so, the agonising process of analysing every question his mind begged an answer for began.

What if Roman’s memory never came back? It had been months since the last breakthrough and his worry wad increasing day by day. He said Roman could stay until his memory returned… but what if it never did? What if he had to live the rest of his life with an oblivious Roman, who had no clue of his heritage or bloodline? Of course, the easy answer would just to tell Roman everything he knew about him. However, the threat of permanent damage had him shrinking away from the idea.

Virgil wished for a time when he was younger, everything had been so much easier. Times when he and Roman had been friends and played together in the castle gardens. Roman had of course always been the dashing hero and Virgil his ever-cautious sidekick. Until the tragedy and the order from the new king to pack their things and leave among with many other servants. The cottage had become their home after, and it became the place where fifteen year old Virgil watched both of his parents die a slow death.

Yet, that tragedy still seemed simpler than the mess he was in now. He almost wished to go back to that time, _almost._ At least back then he didn’t have to hide things and keep secrets. He knew Roman past his public persona. Now, he didn’t feel like he fully knew Roman, even after so much time with him. Almost a decade was a lot of time for someone to change.

However, the Roman he’d seen so far was just like the one he remembered, even if they were a little taller than they had been back then. He was still excitable and imaginative, one that anyone with eyes could see would be a great leader with the proper guidance. The same person who’d told Virgil he wanted to rule his kingdom with a fair and kind hand when he had been just nine years old. The Roman that had loved to be immersed in a fantasy world but was also wise beyond his years and would see things that other children would easily flit past. The one who had opened Virgil’s eyes and taught him to do the same.

This reminiscing was helping nothing, only dragging him further and further into the past until he pulled himself back to the matter at hand. Roman’s memory was taking to long to return, Virgil needed to do something…anything!

Suddenly, a lightbulb flickered to life in his mind. He scrabbled for parchment and a pen.

Maybe he couldn’t do anything, but there was someone he knew who could…


	13. Chapter 12

Roman basked in the silence that the evening bought. It was comfortable, peaceful. Only interrupted by the cheerful chirping of a bird as it flew across the orange tinted sky. He’d learned that despite his loud exterior he quite enjoyed the quiet, it allowed him to think and ponder. It was one of the many things Virgil has taught him about himself. The vast amount of time they had spent together enabled the duo to understand each other and their personalities pretty well without even uttering a sound. It helped them to run like clockwork, naturally following a schedule they’d subconsciously made together.

That was why, when the sun just started to drop before the horizon, Roman stood from where he’d been admiring the sunset and headed inside. Sure enough, Virgil sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Roman to come to dinner. He smiled at the sight, Virgil’s presence had become like a safety net. Knowing he was a mere few steps away when Roman woke from a nightmare made his shaky breaths and racing heartbeat calm. And catching sight of him while they worked reminded him that he wasn’t alone when all he used to be seemed lost.

Yet, today was…different. Virgil had been acting oddly, almost as if his mind was elsewhere. He seemed lost in a maze of his own thoughts, making the chance of an actual conversation with him slim to non-existent. So, Roman stayed quiet, if Virgil wanted to talk about what was bothering him, he’d bring it up.

And so, the small room was filled with silence as they ate. Movement in the corner of his eye caused Roman’s gaze to rise. Virgil was constantly fidgeting, his eyeline rising to Roman every few seconds. Their eyes caught, and Virgil sat up, leaning back with a sigh.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Roman sat back, waiting patiently as suspense stirred in his stomach. His mind searched fruitlessly for an answer, anything the had had noticed that could elude to Virgil’s predicament…yet he came back empty handed.

“I need to go away for a few days. “

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed. Virgil had been anxious to leave Roman for a few hours, and now he was planning to leave him alone for a few _days?_

The silence settled again as Roman thought, his statement only added to the cloud of confusion that blanketed his mind.

Yet, to his surprise, Virgil spoke again. “There’s a guy I know, or at least my cousin knows, who might be able to help you with your memory.”

Roman sat up straight. “Really? Why mention this now?” If this was what had been playing on Virgil’s mind then he had obviously known for a few days.

Virgil shrugged, looking away. “I wanted to see if your memory would return on it’s own.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Roman sighed, “how long will you be gone for?”

“Just a couple of days. I need to plan everything first, But the trip should be two days, three at most,” Virgil explained. “I’ll bring him to the cottage, it’ll be easier that way.”

“What if he refuses to help?” Roman questioned, the first tendrils of doubt starting to form and take hold.

“He won’t, that won’t happen,” Virgil replied, shaking his head.

“How do you know that?”

“I know this guy well. He owes me a favour. If I ask, he’ll help.”

Roman sighed, looking away. Virgil’s plan had a lot of unknowns, so many things could go wrong. Roman didn’t even know this mysterious stranger that Virgil spoke about, anything could happen!

But it was the only plan they had.

“Okay, I trust you,” Roman decided, raising his gaze back to Virgil, who smiled reassuringly. Yet, Roman couldn’t shake the sense of unease that settled in his stomach as the mere  thought of letting Virgil leave sent him reeling.

How the hell was he going to get through two days?


	14. Chapter 13

The pit of dread curled and twisted in Roman’s stomach, the day for Virgil’s trip had finally dawned…and Roman was in no way prepared for it. He hovered in the kitchen, watching as Virgil packed the necessities into a leather messenger bag.  

He should say something, just tell Virgil that he doesn’t want him to go, but then he would be questioned why, and he didn’t entirely have an answer. And so, he stood by as Virgil rushed this way and that, grabbing items of clothing that trailed after him before he unceremoniously shoved them into the bag.

Roman was still caught up in his thoughts when Virgil closed the bag with a quiet click of the fastener and turned to face him.

“It’s, uh, time for me to go,” Virgil spoke quietly, yet his voice easily carried across the silent room. Roman nodded, not trusting his own mouth to blurt out how he didn’t want Virgil to go at the earliest opportunity.

At the lack of response, Virgil turned, picking up the bag as he moved down the narrow hallway and into the sunny spring day. Roman followed, catching up to his friend as he stood by a lone horse, the only horse Virgil owned, securing the bag to its saddle. After giving it a firm tug, Virgil lifted his foot into the stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle.

“Please try not to burn down our home while I’m gone,” Virgil quipped, throwing a playful smirk Roman’s way.

Yet, Roman didn’t catch it. His mind was stuck, twirling and tumbling over the words ‘our home.’

_He called it our home, not his home._

_What does that mean? What are we now?_

_Do I want us to be anything?_

_One thing is I certainly don’t want him to go._

_And why did Virgil saying those words fill me with a warm fuzzy feeling?_

“Roman!” Virgil’s shouting bought Roman back to reality, the neverending supply of questions filtered away like water down a drain as he hurriedly bought his attention back to Virgil’s face and the slightly concerned expression it held.

“I apologize, I seem to have been caught up in my head for a moment,” he explained, though his avoidance of eye contact told more than he wanted it to.

Virgil sighed, smiling at Roman and fondly shaking his head. “Take my hand?” he asked, stretching said hand towards Roman in offering.

Roman hesitated slightly before stepping forward and taking Virgil’s outstretched hand.

“Roman, are you feeling…uneasy about being left alone?”

Roman looked away, as though he could hide his rising worries from Virgil, which had always been a fruitless effort.  “It’s putting me on edge a little I must admit.”

“Okay, last minute change of plan. Go inside grab some things you need and meet me back here. You’re coming with me.”

Roman’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, “Really?”

“Really.”

Barely five minutes passed before Roman was running back outside, an identical leather bag bursting with clothes was clutched in his hand, jumping around as it followed his movements.

Hastily, he tied it next to Virgil’s and hopped onto the horse. Roman had never been gladder of a big saddle in his life, even if he still had to push up slightly against Virgil for them both to fit in it.

With a gentle nudge, they started along the forest path towards the great city.


	15. Chapter 14

The trees of the forest loomed high overhead, casting eerie, elongated shadows across the grassy floor. The sun shone almost directly above them, yet the dense foliage blocked the light and caused the ground to seem dim as Roman and Virgil followed the trail to the city.

Roman hadn’t stopped looking round in wonder after the had left the first village they had travelled through. He thought it was amazing how a little distance could initiate such a drastic change in the woodland. What had once been overtaken with a mixture of bright and dull greens was now exploding with colour. A meadow containing flowers of all types and sizes lined each side of the path, splashes of blue, red, yellow and every colour in between sprouted from the ground. They grew deep into the forest until they became sparse. The flowers ever faded though, just when Roman thought they were gone for good a yellow daffodil (that Virgil had told him it was called) or a red tulip (another of Virgil’s pearls of wisdom) would appear and send his mind back into it’s wonder-filled haze.

The amazement he revelled caused him to miss Virgil’s fond glances over his shoulder to take in his friend’s wonder-filled eyes.

Roman was pulled from his marvelling by Virgil’s question, voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Hm?” Roman hummed, eyes bright but mind wandering.

Virgil chuckled as he turned back to face the path. More people were starting to congregate on the slowly widening path. “Pull your hood up for me?”

“What? Why?”

“Please just trust me.”

Roman hesitated, fingers clutching at the deep green fabric that made up the hood. His eyes caught Virgil’s as the other looked back and the desperation in his eyes made Roman almost jump back. He trusted Virgil, the guy knew what he was doing. Something bad would happen if Roman didn’t listen, he could tell…he just didn’t know what it was.

And so, Roman pulled the hood up, concealing his features just in time for a patrolling member of the kings guard to pass them.

“We’re not too far from the city, maybe an hour’s ride. Just keep your head down, okay?” Virgil explained.

“Okay,” Roman agreed, keeping his head bowed to stay shrouded in darkness.

As the picturesque views rolled by, Roman’s eyes drifted up to a sight that made his breath catch in his throat. A tree stood in line with the others, inconspicuous until your eyes were subconsciously drawn downwards. At the bottom of the tree was a large dent in the trunk where the bark peeled and curled in on itself, something had hit that tree with a terrifying amount of force, and, if Roman was standing, the sight would have bought him to his knees.

The sight faded as images flashed through his mind. A young boy, too alike to roman to be anything but his younger self, holding a man’s hand as they stared as a carriage, crushed and almost twisted around an identical tree. Even in his mind, the man gave off an unnerving presence.

Roman gasped slightly as reality came back into focus. Tears formed in his eyes as an overwhelming sense of loss took hold and settled in his chest. Roman screwed his eyes shut, turning to bury his head in Virgil’s shoulder. What had that been? A memory or some messed up dream? And if it had been a memory…what had happened to that carriage and why did it evoke such strong emotion in him?

“You okay?” Virgil’s question cut through his thoughts.

Roman’s only answer was to silently nod into Virgil’s shoulder. He tightened his grip on Virgil’s waist as the other moved his free hand to comfortingly rest over Roman’s. The gesture was supportive, but the romantic connotation was not lost on either of them.

“Y’know, somehow I just don’t believe you. Did you remember something?”

Roman nodded again, lifting his head to recount what he’d seen. “I think so, a carriage was horribly mangled against a tree. I stood in front of it, holding the hand of some strange man.’’

Virgil tensed under Roman’s hold, yet he removed his hand as he relaxed quickly. “You’re right, it sounds…odd.”

Roman was expecting more to Virgil’s answer, yet it never came. It didn’t sit right with him, usually Virgil jumped at the chance to analyse anything to do with Roman’s mind, yet he had dropped that particular conversation all too quickly this time. Roman racked hos brain for a way to revive the conversation but quickly let it drop as he came up empty handed. “So, why down;t you tell me a little about this great city, dark and stormy?”

Virgil was silent for a second as roman waited patiently, “It’s the city that is home to our royal family, the Sanders.  It’s like any big city, it has rich people who live in big, unnecessary houses and it has poor people who live in densely populated areas. The person we’re going to see is a healer who lives in the richer part of town. He should be able to help you regain your memory.”

Roman nodded along as Virgil spoke, letting the conversation die as Virgil finished speaking, there was so much he wanted to ask: Why was there such a big divide? What was the royal family like? Who was this guy they were travelling so far for?

Yet, he let the questions lie as they drifted into silence.

The sun was setting as the pair rode through the gates that signified the entrance to the nicer part of the city, where the gaps between the houses got bigger and the houses themselves elongated and widened. Roman had hid from the sights of the poorer housing, the upsetting sight quickly becoming too much for him. It was wrong that people were allowed to live like that while others revelled in outlandish, unnecessary lifestyles.

Virgil pulled the horse to a stop in front of one of the many grander houses along the route. Roman stared up in awe at it, which sent him hastily scrambling for his hood as it slipped back and threatened to fall off his head completely.

Butterflies settled in his stomach as Virgil hopped off the horse, gravel crunching under his feet. This was it, there was no tuning back now…


	16. Chapter 15

Roman was reeling, since entering the city Virgil has seemingly changed into a completely different person. Gone was the friend who had told Roman the stories of the city, or who had spent hours desperately trying to help Roman’s memory to return, now he seemed cold and calculating, tense as though waiting to be hit. Roman followed suit and hopped off the horse as Virgil looked up expectantly at him. Careful not to let his hood slip, Roman landed beside Virgil.

“Follow quickly and keep close to me,” Virgil ordered, lowering his voice so only the two of them could here. Roman looked around in confusion but did as he was told. Himself and Virgil were the only two on the street, so why was he sneaking around as though he had something to hide? It didn’t sit well with Roman, leaving his stomach to ominously flip and churn.

He watched as Virgil strode towards the house they had pulled up to. An imposing house made of white brick that reflected the last few rays of the dying sun, making the white almost blinding to look at. Four large windows dotted the front of the house, two framing each side of the door made of dark, oak wood. The set of four windows carried on up to the second and third floors, with two attic windows sitting on either side of where the wall tapered off into the roof.

Virgil knocked a strange pattern as Roman hurried to catch up with him, his companion’s words of warning echoing in his head. It was a three, two, one pattern, with a four second pause between each set of knocks. Suddenly, the door was wrenched open. Roman wouldn’t been surprised if it had flown of it’s hinges.

Virgil stood aside, glancing round once more as he ushered Roman inside before stepping inside himself.

“Virgil I’m so glad you came!” an excited voice exclaimed, it’s speaker pushing past a still hooded Roman to wrap Virgil up in a tight embrace.

“It’s uh, good to see you too Pat,” Virgil replied, his tone a little more hesitant but the slight smile on his face was hard to miss. It wasn’t until the two had parted that Roman got to see the speaker who Virgil had identified as Pat. He had a friendly, welcoming face, the smattering of freckles across his cheeks only serving to enhance that image. His glasses having the same effect too.

“Virgil, it’s good to see you,” another voice spoke, this time from behind Roman. He turned, noting that the speaker seemed the opposite of Pat. His face was sharp and angled, and while he had a very similar style of glasses on his eyes were calculation but not cold. It was as though he was assessing the situation rather than taking part in it.

“You too, Logan,” Virgil replied, offering a polite nod that the man, who Roman now knew was called Logan, returned.

“And this is Roman,” Virgil introduced. Roman took that as his cue and lifted his hands to remove his hood.

Patton’s smile momentarily faltered and Logan took a step back before the both quickly recovered. However, their lapses had been long enough for Roman to take note, and his patience at all the painfully obvious secrecy was wearing thin. There was something he wasn’t being told, and manners be damned he was going to find out today what it was.

“Okay, enough is enough. What aren’t you telling me?”

Virgil, Patton and Logan shared uneasy glances. “Well, the thing is that-“ Patton started.

“Pat, no. Not right now,” Virgil cut in, glancing back over to Patton as he lowered his voice.

Roman frustration rose from a simmer just below to the surface to a boil as he mind started to slot the pieces together. As he removed his hood, Patton and Logan had something akin to recognition cross over both their face, they _recognised_ him and Virgil was trying to keep that fact from him. But how did they know him? Did he know them personally or was it in a more general tone, in a way that you would know a famous person?

“No! You don’t get to decide that Virgil. It’s my memory and-“

“Roman calm down,” Logan jumped in, moving to stand next to him, facing Virgil and Patton. “All will be revealed in due time. But I apologise for all the stress you’ve been put under. We couldn’t risk anyone recognising you on your-“ Logan’s spiel came to an abrupt end as Virgil sent a subtle kick to his shin.

Suddenly, it was as though the picture came into clarity as the final pieces slotted together. If Logan and Patton knew who he was, as they obviously did, then it was hard to think that Virgil wouldn’t know. He turned his gaze to Virgil, who was looking anywhere but at Roman. “You know, don’t you?”

Virgil sighed. “Roman-“

“You _know_ , don’t you? You’ve known all this time who I was and you didn’t say anything! Tell me I’m wrong. Look me in the eyes and tell me that when we first met you had no clue who I was.”

“I can’t tell you that, because I did know. But I kept it secret for you own good. If I’d said anything you could have been hurt.”

“Hurt?” Roman repeated, a wisp of confusion mixing in with the anger and frustration he felt.

“Virgil’s right, Roman,” Logan cut in, “Telling you anything about yourself before your mind was ready to accept it could have resulted in serious consequences for yourself, leaving you mind with irreparable damage beyond what is already affecting you.”

“Still…you could have at least told me,” Roman snapped.

“There’s no need for fighting, you don’t have to wait much longer, Roman,” Patton soothed. “Logan made the potion as soon as we got Virgil’s message. It’s in Logan’s study.” The three looked to Logan, with varying amounts of excitement, dread and apprehensiveness held in each of their expressions. Logan’s eyes drifted over each of them for a second, as though assessing each of the possible outcomes of the situation. “Logan?” Patton spoke again, “would you like to lead he way?” he urged.

Roman watched as Logan stood up straighter, his eyes losing that glassy look that overcame them as he retreated into his own mind. He nodded, turning and leaving Roman and the others to follow.

Roman looked around in awe as he was led through corridors lined with paintings, suits of armour and so many of what looked to be priceless artefacts he’d lost count. It was the polar opposite of Virgil’s tiny cottage that had become his safety blanket, his home. This new, vast area was slightly jarring for him, leaving Roman with a sense of vulnerability that made his stomach roll and his shoulders tense.

Yet, the soft and lavish furnishings didn’t distract Roman from the way his hands started to become clammy as they neared Logan’s study.

The study door was made of the same thick oak that had been a running theme throughout all of Patton and Logan’s home, and inside the study was no different. The window looked out onto a garden filled with bright flowers, slightly dulled from the lack of light the setting sun bought. The large desk was made from that same tell-tale wood Roman was becoming accustomed to seeing.  Along the walls sat an array of books neatly aligned in the many bookshelves, occasionally intersected by a constellation map or scientific diagram.

Logan headed straight for the other side of the desk, swiping the wooden armchair to the side and digging through what looked to be a drawer on the other side. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for and he was walking back around to the other side of the desk as Patton closed the study door with a soft click.

Logan leaned back almost casually against the desk, holding the object up at eye level. A vial, filled with a cloudy liquid. The vial itself was no bigger than the length of Roman’s smallest finger. If the amount of liquid it could hold could really restore his memories then it must be stronger than Roman would originally imagined it to be.  

Logan let the vial rest in the palm of his hand, holding it out for Roman to take. He eyed it suspiciously, an array of worries presenting themselves now the time had come. He barely knew these people, what evidence did he have that he could trust them? That ‘potion’ seemed awfully dodgy, triggering a sense of unease in Roman’s gut.

“How do I know I can really trust you? How do I know that this liquid won’t instantly kill me?” Roman asked, holding back on taking the vial as he eyed it suspiciously.

“You don’t,” Logan replied, “you have no way of knowing. We could kill you and no one would be any the wiser as to your existence, all of us here know that. But you have no other choice. You trust us and Virgil’s judgement to bring you here or you remain oblivious to the life you led.”

Roman sighed, glancing to where Virgil and Patton both stood tensely before turning back to face Logan and taking the vial. Footsteps sounded from behind him and a comforting pressure landed on his shoulder. Turning his head, Virgil stood inches away.

With one last reassuring nod, Roman removed the stopper from the vial and downed the liquid.

Logan rushed forward, ushering Virgil away as the three watched on in worry and apprehension. They stood there, watching Roman for what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

Roman waited, braced for the potion to take effect. Yet…there was nothing, he didn’t feel any different.

Logan’s brows knitted together as Roman shrugged he didn’t feel any-

An agonising pain shot through his head, causing Roman to scream out in shock and agony. His vision turned into a blanket of white as his hands when to cradle his head as it felt like it was being torn apart from the inside out.

The shouts of the others seemed far away as he hunched over. They barely register with him before he lost consciousness…

Roman remembered.

—

He ran to his father, stumbling slightly on legs that were wobbly and new to him. The chubby cheeks of his four-year-old self rosy from the exertion. His eyes lit up and his childlike laughter filled the air as his father bent down to catch him, lifting him up in the air before swinging him around and letting his son cling to his waist. Young Roman watched on with rapt attention as his father showed him the basics of caring for a horse, even though he was king his father had never shied away from helping out in the stables when he had the free time and taking care of his own prized stallion. It wasn’t until he had spotted his mother watching from the nearby doorway that his attention had been lost. His father had laughed, easily handing his over to his mother as she sauntered over towards her family.

—

Roman ran through the extensive palace gardens, a wooden sword clutched in his hand. His trusty sidekick followed, black and red capes made from tablecloths billowed in the wind behind the two six-year-olds.

“C’mon Virgil! The dragon witch won’t slay itself,” Roman exclaimed, skidding round a corner an narrowly avoiding landing headfirst in one of the many flowerbeds.

“Roman, are you sure? This could end pretty badly…” Virgil stuttered, running a few steps behind Roman.

“Of course I’m sure, Virgil! I’m a prince, it’s my job to be courageous. Now come on, I can’t succeed without my trusty sidekick,” the prince exclaimed, climbing onto a nearby bench before jumping off the back and continuing on his way.

Virgil sighed fondly before following, choosing to head around the bench.

—

Ten-year-old Roman sat at the table in his schoolroom, absentmindedly pushing around the fruit that his Louise, his nanny, had placed in front of him before rushing from the room.

He sighed, glancing out the window. The ache in his chest worsened at the thought of his parents. He missed them so much. Their weekly absence had been torture for Roman, and he had been excitedly waiting for them with Virgil and one of the maids on the front steps when his nanny had hurriedly ushered him inside.

The door behind him opened, causing Roman to glance over his shoulder. Disappointment flared in Roman’s chest as Louise entered, followed by his uncle – no sign of his parents. Confusion inched it’s way into his head to sickeningly mix with the disappointment he felt.

Roman watched as his uncle took a seat opposite him. Louise took her place next to Roman, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She looked heartbroken, hurriedly wiping away any tears that escaped before the young prince had the chance to see them. His uncle looked…sad, not miserable, not inconsolable at the death of his brother and his wife just…sad. His fingers were waved together as they rested on the table, a pose that was all too professional for the situation.

Roman was still clueless, something bad had happened, that much he knew.

“Roman,” his uncle started, “something has happened…with your parents.” He paused. “Their carriage was involved in a terrible accident on the way home. They passed away instantly.”

“I’m so sorry, Roman,” Louise interjected, kneeling down as she tried and failed to hold back her inconsolable sobs.

Roman felt numb. His parent’s…were dead? No, they couldn’t be, there had to be some kind of mistake. They couldn’t leave him. Not yet. He hadn’t spent enough time with them. He couldn’t be an orphan. He still needed them.

“You have my deepest sympathies, Roman,” his uncle spoke, bowing his head.

He didn’t want people’s sympathy. He just wanted his parents back.

—

“What do you mean you’re leaving?!”

“I’m sorry, Roman, I really am.”

“If you were sorry you’d stay!”

“I can’t!”

“Why?”

“Because you uncle kicked us out! He’s kicked almost the entire household out! My parents no longer work here. We’re not welcome here.”

“Why would he do that? Of course you’re welcome here, you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Please don’t go! You’re all I have left.”

“I have to.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Roman. But I have to go.”

“Virgil, no!”

—

Roman’s teenage years were spent in the company of the very few servants that remained. Louise never failed to bring him a cake, the same chocolate one every year. That was, until she was fired too. His uncle had decided that now he was fifteen, he no longer needed a nanny. Roman had fought back, insisting that he did. Deep down the prince knew he didn’t, he just couldn’t bear the loss of another friend.

Since then, his birthdays were spent in complete solitude. The yearly tradition of the people gathering outside the castle to sing him happy birthday quickly drifted into deafening silence.  Roman let numb on his birthdays, the urge to celebrate weakening as the years passed by.

—

Sixteen-year-old Roman wore a mask of his former childhood self: happy and boisterous. The only true thing anyone knew of him now was that he hated being indoors. The palace reminded him of a cage, a pretty, gilded cage but a cage nonetheless.  It was an often occurrence for Roman to be out before the sun had fully risen over the horizon for him not to return until the sun had dropped out of sight again, drowning the pastel colours off the sky in the inky blackness the moon bought.

Worries for his safety echoed through the remaining servants. However, their schemes to keep him safe quickly were abandoned after Roman snuck away from every guard that was ordered to follow him and after the bypassed every safety measure they put in place to keep him securely inside the castle.

Roman understood their reasons, he really did, but their never-ending meddling grated on his nerves. It was his life why were they stopping him from living it?! All he wanted to do was ride his horse and practice his sword fighting, was that really so bad? All he wanted to do was feel the wind whipping past him as he flew through the acres of gardens and fields that stretched out through the city. As far as the servants were concerned, he just wanted to keep fit.

Yet, Roman kept his true reasons firmly under wraps. He told no one of the way the wind whipping through his hair granted him a small reprieve from the overwhelming grief he still felt six years later. No one saw the tears that streamed down his face as he hacked at a wooden pole with his sword in the pouring rain.

—

Roman felt dizzy, extremely dizzy. As he stumbled back to his bedroom he tried to wrap his mind around it. It didn’t make sense. He had felt fine before dinner, but had not managed to eat half of his food before the overwhelming dizziness and nausea had washed over him.

Roman reached out for the door to him rooms and practically fell into his quarters as the door opened without a hitched. He gasped for air, barely managing to catch himself on his bedframe before the agonising pain made an appearance and made him stagger into a wall. Roman gritted his teeth against the pain, his hands flying to his head as he hunched over.

He had never felt pain like this before and he had been in his fair share of scrapes. It felt like it was ripping his mind apart, or more like it was ripping something out his mind, leaving it filled with holes that held no more than inky blackness and dropping the memories onto the cutting room floor.

Roman stood on the far side of the room, one hand braced against the wall as he clutched his head with the other. His expression was contorted into one of pain and he lifted a worry filled gaze to his uncle as he heard him enter.

“Uncle, I think I may require the healer, something is not right.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you see the healer, Roman.”

“What? W-why not?” Roman grimaced, gritting his teeth. His eyes were slowly closing as Roman physically fought to keep them open.

“Because that would mean ruining my own plan, and after all the work I put in that would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it?”

“You poisoned me? You monster, you fiend!” Roman pushed away from the wall, physically fighting to stay upright.

“Poisoned is such a harsh word, nephew.”

“Okay then, tried to murder me!” Roman retorted, stumbling as he took a step towards Declan.

“I think you’ve said enough. Sleep now.”

“I will not! You will not get away-“

“-Oh I already have. I’m bored of this back and forth. Goodbye, prince Roman,” Declan spat, letting that grotesque grin stretch across his face as he kicked Roman’s legs out from under him.

Roman was unconscious before he hit the floor.


	17. Chapter 16

“Oh my god!” Virgil exclaimed, his adrenaline and panic surging as Roman’s eyes rolled back in his head. He rushed forward, skidding to a stop as his arms wrapped around the prince as he fell, catching him before he hit the floor.

Virgil’s worry filled gaze lifted to Patton, switching between focusing on Logan and Patton as he looked to them for direction. What the hell was he supposed to do? _Was this supposed to happen? What if Roman was dead? The potion had killed him hadn’t it? They’d killed the prince! No, no he couldn’t be dead!_ No after everything him and Roman had been through-

“It’s okay, Virgil, this is completely normal. His brain couldn’t handle the onslaught of information the memories bought so it forced him to pass out so it could process everything. He should be okay in a few hours. Patton, will you lead Virgil to a guest room?” Logan reassured Virgil, doing little to calm Virgil’s frazzled nerves.

He gathered Roman into his arms, holding him bridal style as he followed Patton back out into the hallway.

The room Patton led him to was spacious. A four-poster bed sat facing the window as the last rays of the dying light shone onto the wooden floor. Virgil hurried past Patton and deposited Roman on the bed.

Two sets of footsteps followed him into the room, standing a few feet away. “He won’t wake for a few hours yet. We should leave him to rest,” Logan’s voice reached his ears, though he did nothing to acknowledge that he’d hears anything he’d said. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and took Roman’s hand in his own, soothingly rubbing his thumb back and forth along his knuckles.

The footsteps headed back towards the door, and Virgil thought they both had left until he heard one lone set of footsteps make their way back towards him. Patton appeared in his peripheral view, settling himself into a chair he’d pulled over, yet Virgil was too lost in his mental pleas for Roman to be okay to register his cousin’s presence.

_Please be okay. I’ve come to rely on you these past few months, you can’t leave me now._

“Virgil? Come back to me,” Patton softly called, gently urging Virgil out of his own head.

The other sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor as he dragged his free hand over his face.

“Virgil…in your letter, are you sure you told me everything? I mean, you said-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re friends, Patton. That’s it.”

“I’ve always been able to see through your masks, Virgil. You know that. I know you too well to fall for the lies you use to brush off Logan. Now, talk to me,” Patton replied, the firm tone in his voice leaving little room for Virgil to argue, yet he knew that if he truly didn’t want to talk Patton would understand and let it drop.

It took a while for Virgil to get his thoughts into some kind of order, he’d never been able to accurately communicate his thoughts, but for Patton he’d try. “When I said in the letter that Roman was my friend, that might not have been the entire truth. He is my friend, but what I feel for him stretches to more than just friendship. I don’t know, its confusing. I’ve never felt this way before, its hard to figure out.”

“I know, V, it’s difficult but I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough. You just need to wait for Roman to wake up, then you can figure out what you feel together.”

“What? What do you mean?” Virgil asked, sparing Patton a brief glance as his brows knitted together in confusion.

“Have you not seen the way Roman looks at you? You’ve been his entire world for the past few months, the chance of him not falling for you was infinitesimal,” Patton chuckled. “Besides, don’t you remember when you told me there was something between you two when you were-“

“I remember, Pat. I remember all too well.”

“Then there’s nothing question. Now, you were very vague in your letter and now you’re here I want to know everything that’s happened with you and Roman.”

Virgil exhaled, taking a moment to compose himself before he recounted everything from finding Roman in the forest to nursing him back to health. He told Patton about the suspicions he had that the king tried to get rid of Roman because it made no sense that he found Roman dazed and disoriented with no memory but then received Patton’s letter telling him that Roman was dead, unless the king had tried to get rid of him and assumed he was actually dead.

“Well, after what happened to me, I wouldn’t put it past the king to do something as horrible as that,” Patton replied, his gaze drifting to Roman’s unconscious form. Virgil’s eyes followed, protectiveness swelling in his chest at the sight of the prince. He just wanted to take Roman back to their cottage in the woods, where they would be safe and nobody could find them. But that was far from possible and the reality they were facing was much more dangerous than the dream that played out in Virgil’s head. “But we can’t just go barging into the castle with no proof. They could say Roman went missing and they couldn’t find him so he was presumed dead,” Patton continued.

“Wait,” Virgil started, holding up his free hand as if it would physically silence his cousin as he turned to face him. “So you’re saying we need Logan to-“

“-To do what he does best,” Patton cut in, a playful smirk stretching across his face.

Virgil let his gaze drift back to Roman, a deep ache settling into his chest at the sight. The onslaught of memories would be hard on him, that Virgil knew. But he would be ready and waiting for him when he woke.a>


	18. Chapter 17

The first thing Roman heard was the rain tapping against the wooden shutters. It was a sound he had always found comforting, and one he now knew would lull him to sleep when he was younger.

It was different to the time he’d woken up in the forest, his mind felt heavier. Roman couldn’t tell if it was a psychological thing or if it was due to the weight of everything he knew now. His parent’s death, Virgil being his childhood friend and later boyfriend, his uncle’s dastardly plan to kill him, all came back to him as the memories were slotted back into place like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.

Roman fought against his eyelids to try and pry them open. His eyes felt dry, like they were filled with grit. The only thing he wanted to do was turn over and go straight back to sleep in the hopes that it would clear the cloud that hovered over his mind.

But he had slept enough, and – by the way the room was just starting to become shrouded in darkness again – and a niggling thought in the back of his mind was telling him that getting up and showing Virgil he wasn’t dead was a priority.

His legs felt weak and shaky as Roman sat up and shuffled to the edge of the bed. It reminded him of when he woke in Virgil’s cottage, only ten times worse. He’d been asleep for at least a few days, that was obvious, but how long exactly he had no clue.

A candle burned on the table next to a glass of water that made Roman realise how dry his throat actually was. He reached for it, downing the glass in record time. Beyond the few feet of light the candle gave off, the rest of the room was a sea of dark shapes, undiscernible at the late hour.

A faint light shone out from the hallway, drawing Roman carefully onto his feet and out of the room. Several doors lined the corridor, all firmly shut. Indistinct voices reached his ears as they floated up from downstairs. Roman paused, listening. The voices were definitely there, yet too faint to actually be discernible. His interest piqued, he started to descend the stairs in pursuit of the mysterious voices. Candles lined the staircase, sitting in golden candleholders that were attached to the wall. They gave off a faint glow that was just enough light to avoid tripping down the stairs.

The voices became louder, more discernible. One of them definitely sounded familiar, a tell-tale voice telling him it was Virgil. Roman paused as he reached the bottom of the stairs, creeping towards the nearest doorway that had an abundancy of light.

“So you’ll finally join us?” That voice was one he wasn’t familiar with, though he knew he’d heard it recently, it radiated a comforting vibe, reminding Roman of coming home after being away for a long time.

“It was hard not to when he hurt you, but then I knew eventually Roman would take over. Now I don’t have a choice.” Virgil. That was definitely Virgil.

Were…were they talking about him?

Another voice cut through his thoughts, this one more calculating than the last. "You need to tell him, Virgil. He deserves to know everything that happened.”

“I know that Logan, it’s just….he only just got his memories back. Can’t we give him some time to take it all in first?”

“But, Virgil, every day that passes is only going to make it worse when you finally do tell him. You’re keeping things from him, things he really needs to know.”

Roman was reeling. Every moment he hid in the hallway only revealed more questions. He took a deep breath and stepped into the room, he was going to have to do it eventually, why not just get it over and done with?

“What are you not telling me?”

The three figures froze, all turning to face him in unison. They stood around a large table where a map had been laid out, taking up the entire length of it. Papers were scattered around what little of the table remained visible, with illegible scrawls on them. Ink was splattered across the pages, as though they had been written in a hurry. The map wasn’t in much better shape, a number of villages had been circled, with the same writing nearby. Lines had been drawn from each one, all connecting in what had been labelled as the ‘High City.’ It would have been gibberish to Roman a mere twenty-four hours ago but, from the way the other three had been crowding around it, he would have been able to tell it was important.

The figure with the calculating voice, who he now recognized to be Logan, spoke. How could he have not remembered someone who had been one of the last people he’d seen before he passed out? Shouldn’t he have been one of the few he /did/ remember? “Do you remember, Roman?”

Roman narrowed his gaze, folding his arms defensively over his chest. “Why are you avoiding the question?”

“I’m not,” Logan replied, the effort it took to keep his tone even evident. “I need to know so i can tell you what we were talking about. It won’t make sense to you otherwise.”

Roman let his arms drop to his sides as he lowered his defenses. “Fine, my memories are back, Now, will you tell me what you’re all being so secretive about?” Roman replied, looking around expectantly.

Virgil looked away, leaving Roman’s gaze to burn into the back of his head. Patton looked down, fiddling awkwardly with the slightly curling edge of the map. Logan stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable, even under Roman’s expectant gaze. After a few seconds of tense silence, Logan sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt before replacing them.

He let himself drop into one of the nearby armchairs, Patton and Virgil quickly doing the same.

Roman stayed standing.

“What do you know of your uncle’s attack against you?” Logan asked, staring into the fire that was crackling in the fireplace on the other side of the room.

Roman thought for a moment before replying. His mind still felt a little fuzzy, yet it receded to the edge of his mind as he sifted through the memories of that awful day that made his blood run cold and hands start to shake slightly. “Not much. He mentioned something about a plan and poisoning but that was it.”

Roman caught the look Logan threw Patton, who quickly took control of the conversation in a soft, almost hesitant tone. “Well Roman, we’ve found out he did that to keep the power he has. Power that he would lose if you took the throne.”

Roman stomach turned nauseously. It was bad enough remembering that his uncle had been the coordinator of the attack in the first place but in the short time he’d remembered he hadn’t been able to think of a reason behind it. Now, he’d realised that knowing was worse, he’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance.

But that was a luxury Roman couldn’t have. He nodded, urging them to continue their explanation.

“The kingdom…it’s changed since when your parents were alive. Corruption is rife, thanks to your uncle and his friends. However, people seem to think that _you_ are their only hope. And, no matter how illogical I think that train of thought is, our supporters have been stepping back into submission since the announcement of your death went out. We need to show them you’re alive, present you as the hero they think you are,” Logan exclaimed, gesturing wildly as Patton and Virgil watched Roman for any kind of hint to the emotions that boiled and stirred just under the surface.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Roman asked, “what supporters?”

Logan’s gaze flicked to Patton, who smiled reassuringly and leaned towards Roman. “There are people in this land, Roman, that believe you’re our only hope to bring this land back to how it once was, us three included! So, Logan and I gathered a following, people who would be willing to stand by us as we overthrow the king and give you the power you were born for. There’s quite a few people who stand by us now, enough to put the plan into action. My job is to keep in touch with all our supporters across the kingdom, Logan’s is to infiltrate the castle and to keep tabs on the king before reporting the castle’s weak spots back to us, and Virgil’s job is to give all our fighters last minute training when the plan is put into action.”

Roman’s eyes widened. There was so much to take in yet his mind focused on one sentence. He whipped round to face Virgil. “You knew about this?”

Virgil looked Roman in the eye for the first time since the prince had entered the room. His heart clenched painfully at the sight, yet he brushed the feeling away as memories of distant days spent together rushed back to him.

“I mean, I only just-“

“You did! You knew about all of this, the rebellion, my memories, and you kept it all from me for months,” Roman exclaimed, his stomached twisting nauseously at the thought of Virgil lying to him like that, he really did think they were close.

Virgil looked away, his gaze dropping to fix on the wooden panels of the floor. “You need to stop being so dramatic,” he whispered.

Roman just stared, stunned into silence as the room went deathly quiet.

“I think that’ our cue to leave,” Patton exclaimed a little too happily as he jumped up from his seat. “Logan, shall we head to bed?”

Logan nodded, standing and bidding Virgil and Roman goodnight before leaving the room. The staircase creaked under the weight until they reached the second floor and the tell-tale noises of another’s presence faded into nothing.

Virgil and Roman sat there, staring at anything in the room but the other. The words previously spoken had left a tense atmosphere in the air, one that they both felt an overwhelming urge to break.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil started, “I never meant to keep anything from you, I swear. It’s just…I didn’t know how to explain it. Any of it. If I’d told you it could have permanently damaged you.”

Roman sighed, raising his hand to rub at his forehead. “You don’t need to apologise, you were doing what you thought was best. I’m the one that has to apologise, I got defensive when I should have just listened to you. It’s…it’s a lot to take in right now, after remembering everything my uncle did to me and my parents-“ Roman’s voice broke, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Virgil jumped into action, taking Roman’s hand and gently pulling him to his feet.

Roman clung to the other as he felt a gentle touch wrap around his waist. He gripped Virgil’s shirt, letting his sorrow out in the form of tears that soaked into his friend’s shirt and quiet, hitching sobs.

Virgil stood there, letting Roman cry until the tears had long gone and the sun was peaking over the horizon.


	19. Chapter 18

The room where they stood held a large table that was covered with a map that was obscured by piles of papers. Sunlight filtered in from the two windows at opposite ends of the room, falling across the floorboards and reaching towards the table.

Roman, Virgil, Patton and Logan sat around said table, all in varying types of emotional whirlwinds. Patton and Logan looked serious as they shuffled through papers before casting a glance over the others and returning to the papers or switching them out for different ones. Virgil looked concerned as his eyes flicked between the other three, he chewed on his nail as he watched, as though waiting for the outcome of an important decision. And Roman…well Roman looked determined, the waves of sorrow he had felt a mere few hours ago before they had retired once again to bed had hardened and transformed into a solid wall of determination that would be difficult to break.

Logan sighed and placed down the papers. “So Roman,” he started, “now you know everything, we have a… proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Roman repeated, unsurely glancing to Virgil in the hopes that there would be a reassuring smile waiting for him before bringing his gaze back to Logan.

“To cut a long story short we want you to join the rebellion. More specifically to lead it. The day we plan to overthrow the king is approaching, and we need you to boost our supporters morale by showing them that you’re still alive. But most importantly we need to keep this away from the king. So, the plan is to have groups of people come to the house on the day to show them that you’re alive. Patton, Virgil and yourself will be based here on the run up to the day while i will be in the castle, distracting the king from any movement going on. I-“

“What Logan is trying to ask-“ Patton cut in, “is if you would like to join the revolution. And to take back the power you were born with.”

Roman sat there, speechless. It was too much to take in. Logan’s words spun round his head as his brain tried to take it all in. “I-uh-I don’t know.” A comforting presence came to rest on top of his hand, sending a wave of reassurance through him as it gently rubbed back and forth across his knuckles. Roman squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to hold back the tears the welled up in his eyes and threatened to fall.

“Roman,” Virgil’s voice, barely more than a soft murmur sounded from his right. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

Roman opened his eyes, a few tears involuntarily slipping down his cheeks. He turned his head, letting his gaze catch and lock onto to Virgil’s own. Virgil smiled softly, a slight quirk of his lips that held all the reassurance of acceptance that Roman needed to find his voice again. “You’re right, it’s a big decision to make. But now I know what monstrosities my uncle has committed and how much has been kept from me, I need to do something.”

“So you’ll do it?” Patton asked, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

Roman breathed deeply, letting his eyes slide closed as he ran over his decision one last time before opening them again.

“I will. I’ll lead your rebellion.”


	20. Chapter 19

Virgil leaned against again one of the outer walls of the house. The wood dug into his back, letting him know he’d definitely have red marks in the shape of the wooden panels on his back come morning. Yet, the thought fled after a moment, overtaken by more pressing matters that plagued his mind.

The moon shone high overhead, full and bright against a midnight sky that was dotted with stars. The sight of the moon from his cottage had always been a comfort, a sight that relaxed him when his shoulders were hunched up and tense or when his breaths were starting to come in short, sharp sobs. But tonight, it only reminded him of the limited time they had, and how quickly it was running out.

The house was shrouded in darkness. It emitted the silence that almost seemed to ring in your ears – a reminder to Virgil that right now he should be sleeping. He had tried, he really had. But, sleep seemed to be content with evading him that night, instead set on making him think about all that was to come, and the one person it all hinged on…

Roman.

Virgil could barely keep up with the dynamic between himself and the stubborn prince. On minute they were fighting, the next minute they were….well he didn’t know what they were. Roman remembered him from when they were young, that was clear.

Yet, when they first met, Virgil had barely recognised him. Sure, it had probably been his lack of memory that had caused the difference, but now that Roman remembered Virgil could see how much he had grown. His ever present desire to care for people had grown into a fire in his eyes that would be hard to extinguish, no matter how many people had tried. The way he had agreed to join a rebellion he knew next to nothing about had proved that.

The wooden floorboard in the kitchen creaked and groaned under an unknown weight. Virgil turned at the sound, stepping back slightly when he saw a silhouette that could only be Roman standing in the doorway.

“Virgil,” Roman started, seeming equally as shocked at seeing Virgil out here as the other was at seeing him. “Why’re you up so late?”

Virgil shrugged, forcing his gaze to drop from the sleepy figure of Roman to the grass he stood on. “I couldn’t sleep. Not with everything that’s going on right now. What about you? Doesn’t a prince need his beauty sleep?”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Roman replied, stepping forward to stand next to Virgil. He leaned back almost casually, yet Virgil could see the tension he hid. A silence settled, one that would have been comfortable if they had not both felt like the had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

A slight breeze drifted around them, ruffling their hair and chilling their skin in the warm night.

Virgil had thought Roman was going to stay silent when the prince spoke again. “I remember you, you know.”

Virgil stiffened, yet kept looking forward at the garden gate. Looking towards Roman would give away his feelings, and it was too early to do that before he knew Roman’s own.

“I remember when we were kids. When we used to play in the palace gardens together, running through worlds created purely by our imaginations.”

Virgil smiled at the thoughts that bought back. Reminiscent of a time they both wished they could return to, when everything was simpler.

Roman’s expression turned sombre as the slight smile faded into a melancholy expression. Virgil knew what was coming next, and would have done anything to change the subject. But, it would have come up eventually, so what better way to face it than head on.

“And then you left. At the time I didn’t understand why, I was angry. I hated you for it for a while. But there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t see something that reminded me of you.”

“Roman, I-“

“What happened Virgil? After you left. When you found me you were alone. You left the castle with your parents. Did something happen to them?”

Virgil looked down, avoiding eye contact with Roman. He wanted to tell him, to help him understand how his life had taken a sharp plummet into hell when they moved into the cottage, but he wasn’t sure if he could let the memories he’d hidden away re-emerge, and bring back all the sadness they held with them.

But Roman was looking at him with that expectant expression, and damn he didn’t want to keep anything from him anymore.  

“They died. Five years after we had to leave, I was fifteen at the time. My mother got it first but the scarlet fever took them both in the end. I-“ Virgil explained, his voice tapering off into a muffled sob as his throat closed up and tears welled in his eyes.

“V, I’m so sorry,” Roman consoled.

Virgil hurriedly wiped away the tears the spilled over. Arms circled around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Virgil stiffened momentarily, unsure of the sudden show of comfort. He tried to step away, yet the arms only tightened their grip as one slid upwards to card comfortingly through his hair.

At that, Virgil broke. He let his head fall forward into Roman’s chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been there to comfort him when he cried. Butterflies erupted in his stomach at the touch, mixing in with the waves of grief that were still rushing over him.

“Do you remember when we were kids, and we used to sneak down into the kitchens for midnight feasts?”

Virgil smiled at the thought, nodding as best he could.

“We almost always got caught, if not for you constantly telling me it was a bad idea then for me telling you to keep quiet. Everyone who worked there said we were inseparable. I don’t think that was far from the truth.”

Virgil let Roman’s rambling wash over him. As the sun slowly rose over the horizon to the sound of Roman’s stories, Virgil felt the grief that had overtaken him recede back to a dull ache. They’d shifted at some unknown point into a more comfortable stance that had ended with them wrapped around each other.

Roman had finally whispered about maybe trying to get some sleep as the sun finished rising. Virgil had wholeheartedly agreed as the mention of sleep made him realise how tired he now actually felt.

He had slipped back into bed with butterflies fluttering in his chest and his mind blissfully empty.


	21. Chapter 20

“Roman…Roman! Wake up! You can’t just lie around sleeping all day. Everyone’s waiting for you!”

Nope, getting up didn’t seem like a good idea _at all._ The few hours of sleep he’d gotten hadn’t been nearly enough. But the mysterious speaker seemed to be persistent, so Virgil inched open his eyes and squinted in offense against the bright sunlight that shined in through the open window.

“Roman, come _on!”_

Patton hovered in the doorway, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Wha’s going on?” Roman mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His sleep-addled brain was fogged up and hazy, making things twice as long to process.

“Follow me, everyone’s waiting for you!”

Patton disappeared from the doorway, the sound of his footsteps receding down the hall.

Roman sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. As his bones groaned and protested against the movement, he stood and followed Patton out into the hallway. Forcing his legs to move was a challenge, but the way Patton grabbed his hand as soon as he was near and started to pull him down the stairs was worth it.

As the echos of their thundering footsteps faded, the pair skidded to a stop in the dining room doorway. Roman staggered for a second as his mind caught up with his body. Every step was making him question if it was really necessary for him to be pulled out of bed.  Couldn’t whatever it was wait until he’d actually got a decent amount of sleep?

Virgil and Logan stood around a vast dining table, on which a large map had been laid out. The pair were bent over it slightly, deep in thought as they studied it. Logan’s gaze flitted up to the pair in the doorway. Leaning over, he mumbled something to Virgil, who’s caught Roman’s eye before smiling slightly and looking back down.

Following Patton’s lead, Roman took his place, staring down at the map as he tried to see what had Virgil and Logan so engrossed. However, as he’d grown up, no one had been around that could be bothered to teach him anything about war tactics, and so he was once again left clueless on the whole situation until one of the others decided to fill him in.

“Ah, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to join us, Roman,” Logan quipped, “Now everyone’s here we can get down to business.”

He leaned back over the map, eyes scanning over it as the others waited for him to speak. Roman could practically see the cogs turning in his head. Nervousness coiled in his stomach, the thought of just being another pawn in someone else’s game was not an appealing one. Yet, he pushed the thought away. He knew none of them, especially Virgil, would use him as a pawn for their own sick need. In the short time he’d known Patton and Logan, and the longer time he’d known Virgil, he knew they were nothing like his uncle.

“There are supporters gathered in three different inns throughout the city, located here, here and here,” Logan explained, pointing to three different markers on the map. “I will be leaving for the castle tomorrow to distract the king and his advisors while you three will train our supporters in the run up to the uprising.”

Roman tried to listen as Logan went over the details, he really did, but his voice became muffled and far away as Roman’s attention turned to something else…or rather someone else.

His gaze drifted to Virgil, who looked deep in thought as he listened to Logan. However, that façade was broken as Virgil’s eyes flicked up to momentarily meet Roman’s before looking down again as a small smile crept onto his face. Roman felt his own grin fighting it’s way to the surface but managed to push it down and keep up a mask of composure.

“Logan? Is that alright with you?”

“Hm?” Roman hummed, shaken from his thoughts. The three of them were looking at him expectantly, Virgil with a smirk that disclosed that he knew he hadn’t been listening.

“You weren’t listening were you?” Logan sighed, removing his glasses and using the thin material of his shirt to clean them.

“Of course I was!” Roman objected, sounding offended at the suggestion that had been doing the very thing that he had of course be doing.

“Then what did I say?” Logan countered, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in Logan’s direction.

Roman stayed silent, wracking his brain for a snippet of conversation that he may have heard. Of all the times to zone out he had to pick that mome-

“That’s what I thought,” Logan retorted. “If you listen this time I said i will be inside the castle when the attack happens to set off signals for the soldiers on the ground. Patton will be a medic, waiting in a nearby makeshift hospital with others. Virgil will lead the front charge through the castle’s weak spot here and you will lead the backup army for the second wave of attacks.”

“Why am I leading the backup charge?” Roman asked. Wanting to be out of the fight was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to earn his place to stand by the others.

“We need to keep you safe. This is the best way to do that while also showing that you’re not hiding away,” Logan explained.

“But that’s not fair. I don’t want to be hidden away in a safer position just because of who I am. I need to be out there, to show I’ll fight for people. I can’t do that if I’m hidden in a backup army.”

“Roman it’s not that simple-“ Patton starting, placing a comforting hand on Roman’s arm.

“But it is!” Roman exploded, throwing his hands up as Patton’s hand dropped from his arm.

“Roman, it’s not. We’re trying to keep you safe,” Virgil cut in.

“What if I don’t want to be safe? If I die, I die, but at least I’ll be protecting what matters.”

Virgil, Patton and Logan all stayed silent as Roman stared resolutely at them. A tense silence settled in the room as Roman stood his ground.

Logan was the first one to break the silence. “You’re not going to give up on this are you?”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Fine. You’ll lead the front charge, Virgil will swap to the back. I think that’s everything for today.”

Patton and Logan dispersed, leaving Virgil and Roman still standing at the table. Despite the issue being cleared, the air still felt tense. Virgil was glaring at the table, his form tense from the earlier confrontation.

He had gotten his way, yet Roman didn’t feel like he had accomplished anything. He had gotten his way, sure, but he had caused more problems while getting it.

“Virgil-“

“I don’t want to hear it, Roman,” Virgil mumbled, turning to leave the room.

“Please, let me explain.”

“What is there to explain? You got your own way, but you made me look weak in the process.”

“Weak? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not the only one that needs to prove yourself, Roman. Patton and Logan have been planning this for years. I only joined recently because Patton asked me to. No one who supports the cause trusts me. They’ve never even met me! That was my way of showing them they can trust me, and you took that away.”

“Virgil, I’m so sorry,” Roman relented, a wave of guilt washing over him.

“That’s not gonna change anything is it? It’s too late now,” Virgil scowled before storming away and leaving Roman reeling.


	22. Chapter 21

Virgil, Patton and Roman made their way through the narrow, winding streets. The sun was just rising over the rooftops, blurring together the blues and pinks of the sky to create a gorgeous scene. It was amazing how the world could still make beautiful scene such as this even in times of hardship.

Yet, the three of them paid no attention to the unfolding sunrise. They were all bundled up in cloaks, their faces hidden from anyone who may be watching from the shadows. The silence of the early morning streets was a nice reprieve from the never ending planning of the recent days, allowing them all to get their thoughts straight in preparation for the taxing day ahead. The distinct lack of Logan’s presence had thrown all of them, especially Patton, making all them feel just a little out of place.

Roman strode through the streets with his head bowed. The heavy material of the cloak pooled into a large hood that draped low over his face, obscuring his identity as a shadow covered his features. Yet, his mind was far from focused on the way the stifling cloak was making him start to sweat. Instead, he was all too aware of the figure standing next to him. It had been impossible to get Virgil out of his mind. Their argument had been seared into his mind, not helped by the fact that Virgil seemed to have been avoiding him like the plague since.

Then inn appeared at the end of the street, the two story building casting a black silhouette in the rising sun. Roman sucked in a sharp breath as he kept his pace with the others. His eyes skittered around nervously, waiting for someone to jump out of one of the many side streets and ask him to remove his hood and ruin the whole plan. The three pairs of footsteps echoed in the silent streets, setting all of them on edge.

The inn was approaching rapidly, and the group breathed a collective sigh of relief as the door swung shut behind them. Yet, another challenge faced them on the other side of the door. The three turned to see a large crowd assembled. Roman guessed there was easily two hundred people crammed into the room, with more peering down from the staircase and the balcony that stretched around the second story. Roman sighed but remained resolute as Patton removed his hood and started speaking to the waiting crowd. Time to get to work.

—

Roman wanted to collapse where he stood. Exhaustion flooded his body, making his body feel ten times heavier. The announcement that had wasn’t dead had been…interesting. The room had filled with gasps and whispers before breaking out into raucous cheering. Roman had been shocked by the support to say the least. He had expected some hesitancy, not the unending support he actually received. The training he’d given once everything had calmed down

However, the elation that support had given was dimmed by a matter that wouldn’t leave him in peace:

Virgil.

The silence between them was suffocating, and Roman was sick of it. The door slammed shut behind him, and Roman took off after Virgil, who had stormed away the moment they had returned to Patton’s house.

“Virgil!” Roman called, rushing to catch up with Virgil’s retreating figure, who stayed silent. “You can’t just ignore me forever, you know!”

Virgil spun, causing Roman to stumble to a stop.

“I can’t talk right now, Roman.”

“When then?”

“I don’t know! Just not right now,” Virgil exclaimed, turning away and storming around the corner.

Roman sighed. Their words echoed off the walls as Virgil’s footsteps quickly faded, leaving Roman standing in silence once more.

—

The second day was no different to the first. People were shocked to see him but had quickly settled into getting down to the matter at hand. Virgil, of course, had decided to still ignore him, which only added to the growing sense of frustration Roman was directing towards him.

As the sun set and groups started to slowly disperse, Roman pushed his way through the dwindling crowd. Virgil had to talk to him sometime, confronting him here would only make it harder for him to run.

However, Roman was starting to think that some unseen force was out to get him. As he reached the edge of the crowd, Virgil turned. His eyes widened as Roman surged forward.

“Virgil, wait!” Roman called reaching forward as if to physically grasp at him as Virgil turned and disappeared through the door and out into the dying day.

Roman sighed, slowing to a stop. He reached up to run his hand through his hair as a familiar figure made it’s way towards him.

“I know he can be stubborn,” Patton started, “but you can’t give up on him. You two can work this out.”

“Work what out? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t Roman… Go on, go after him. I’ll finish up here.”

Roman momentarily hesitated but Patton’s reassuring smile spurred him on to grab his cloak and head for the door.

The streets were thankfully quiet as Roman rushed through them, shocking the occasional couple a hooded figure ran past them. Patton’s house came into view with still no sign of Virgil. It was eerily silent inside, the slam of the door echoing off the walls.

Was Virgil even here?

The faint tap of distant footsteps drifted through the hallways, drawing Roman deeper into the house. The floorboards creaked ominously under his weight. The sound made him cringe, yet he carried on closing in towards the sound.

Roman stopped outside the library, listening for a moment. The sound originated from inside the room. Now they were closer he could tell they were less like footsteps and more like frantic pacing. They started at the far end of the room, headed towards the ajar door then stopped and turned back.

Roman straightened up and placed a hand on the door handle. He sighed, breathing out shakily to steel the nerves that were rising in his chest. The door creaked as it swung open, alerting the person inside to his presence.

Bookshelves lined every available space on the walls, filled to the brim with books from around the world. An unlit fireplace was built into the wall on left, the lack of the crackling fire made the room feel cold and abandoned. Two armchairs sat facing a balcony that led down a few steps and into the back garden.

The pacing figure had turned to face him and was looking at him with a sense of shock and slight horror. “Roman?”

“Virgil. We need to talk.”

Virgil turned and looked away. “Not right now,” he murmured, heading for his only escape – the double doors that led onto the balcony.

“When then? You can’t hide from me forever,” Roman insisted, following Virgil out onto the balcony.

“I don’t know Roman! Just not right now.”

“You’ve been saying that ever since we argued. Nothing is going to be fixed by avoiding each other so just man up and face me!”

Virgil froze. He turned back to glower at Roman. “Fine. You want to talk about what happened? Let’s talk. That plan was made to keep _you_ safe, Roman. We put ourselves in danger for _you_. And you throw this all away. Why? Because you wanted a piece of the glory? Well, there you go. Go and get yourself killed.” Virgil once again turned away.

Roman’s window to save this conversation was fading fast. In a panic, he lunged forward, grasping Virgil’s wrist. “You don’t understand do you. During all this time you’ve been trying to keep me safe I’ve been trying to do the same for you. You’ve been all I’ve known these past months, and I can’t lose that now. I can’t lose you.”

Virgil physically relaxed as Roman hesitantly loosened then removed his grip on the other’s wrist. He sighed deeply as he turned to face a frantic Roman. “What have we gotten ourselves into, Roman?”

“I have no idea,” Roman replied, subconsciously stepping forward. They were close, too close. “I remember how we were, before you left. I remember what we had.”

“About time. I’ve never been able to forget it.”

“Neither could I, until I lost everything. But I know that when you left I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Roman whispered. Virgil’s breath was warm against his lips.

Virgil shook his head, as though to free himself from a daze. “Stop being a sap and get on with it.”

That was all the acceptance Roman needed. He leaned forward, capturing Virgil’s lips with his own in a slow kiss. They both relaxed quickly, working from muscle memory both had  both hidden in some deep part of their minds. Even though they stood still, Roman had never felt his heart beat so fast.

As he pulled away, Roman began to speak. “Virgil, I-“

Virgil cut him off as he grabbed onto the collar of Roman’s shirt. “Just shut up and kiss me again.”


	23. Chapter 22

Logan leaned back in his armchair, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his thigh. He had zoned out the inane chatter a while ago. The advisors around him laughed and jeered as another beaten prisoner was dragged from the room. Logan’s skin crawled at the sight.

“What about you, Logan?” Declan’s voice cut through the fog. He had learned to differentiate the king’s voice from the others, it was the only way he could survive without pulling his own hair out.

“Sorry, sire?” Logan asked, turning to face the king who sat beside him.

“Have you found a wench to order around yet?”

“No, not yet,” Logan answered shortly, curling his hands into fists as his mind drifted back to the last time his real partner had come into contact with the king…and the state he had been in after.

“I know a girl you know. She has a high position in society and not a brain in her pretty little head. She’d be a perfect little servant.”

Logan gritted his teeth, the thought made him physically sick. “Thank you for your kindness, sir. However, I think I will pass.”

“Why not? You’re not getting any younger, Logan.”

“I-uh-“

The door burst open, sending a breathless messenger boy tumbling onto the stone floor. Everyone in the room turned to face him in a mix of shock and anger att being interrupted as Logan mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sir,” the boy panted, “Prince Roman…has been seen…in the lower town.”

Declan jumped to his feet, his anger boiling over into something intangible. Yet, he carefully slid his mask into place before most of his advisors managed to see. “I see. Excuse me gentlemen,” Declan spoke before sweeping from the room.

Logan leaned back in his seat, fighting to keep the smile off his face as the room buzzed with curious chatter once again. The plan was falling into to place easier than he could have ever imagined…


	24. Chapter 23

Declan waited until the door had swung shut again before taking off down the hall, his cape billowing behind him. His footsteps echoed on the stone flooring, the only sign of his presence as he flew past countless servants. His mind was a frenzy of emotions, anger at the news being the most prominent.

The throne room came into view, causing Declan to skid to a halt outside it. He paused a moment, fixing his now dishevelled clothing before pushing open the door and storming inside.

In the throne room stood the very guards he was ready to tear apart. They huddled together in a middle of the room, a group of prey cornered by a pacing predator. Declan scowled at the sit of them. His footsteps echoed against the tiled floor, the sound bouncing off the walls, making it seem deafening in the silent room.

The king slowed to a stop in front of the cowering guards. He looked down on them, analysing the way they cowered in fear. At least they were smart enough to fear him. “You told me…” Declan started, his tone calm and collected, “that he was dead!” He ended with a booming shout. “All those months ago, you told me that problem was dead and buried…and _now_ I find out that he’s not only alive but running around the city! Do you think it clever to lie to your king?”

“No, Sir! We thought he was dead, really we did-“

“I don’t care what you thought. Did you get rid of the problem?” Declan asked, turning away and gazing out the many windows on the opposite side of the room.

The guards fell silent again, and Declan’s footsteps sounded excruciatingly loud once more. “Well?” he snapped.

“By the time we go there, Sir, he was gone…”

Declan sighed and hung his head but said nothing. He clasped his hands behind his back and carried on pacing, this time towards a suit of armour. He paused, before lashing out at it and sending it falling to the floor with a deafening crash. “Find him!” he screamed, “issue a kingdom wide reward if you must!”

The guards nodded and bowed before scrambling from the room.

Declan glowered as he watched them go, the door closing behind them with a dull thus.

“I’ll burn down every house in the city if I have to.”


	25. Chapter 24

The library was quiet, a little haven away from the trials and tribulations of what was now everyday life. The two chairs that faced the back garden were taken by two figures, their fingers loosely linked in the space between.

“Are you nervous, Ro?”

Roman turned to face Virgil. “A little. I’ve never exactly done this before.”

“Really? I thought you did this every weekend.”

“Shut up,” Roman grinned, unlinking their fingers to lightly push at Virgil.

“But seriously Roman, you can tell me if you’re nervous.”

Roman’s expression sobered as he gazed over the gardens. “I-“

A knock sounded from the hallway. Patton edged into the room, clutching at a piece of parchment. “I don’t want to interrupt you two,” he started.

“Don’t worry about it, Pat. What’s up?” Virgil asked.

Patton made his way into view of the armchairs, leaning against the decorative table that stood by the French doors. “This was taped to the front of the door,” he explained, handing it to Virgil.

Roman leaned forward, nausea churning in his stomach at the contents of the page. The word ‘wanted’ was printed across the top of the page in block lettering accompanied by realistic drawing of him that took up most of the page. His name was printed below in identical lettering, labelling him a ‘fugitive.’

“Where the hell did you find this, Patton?” Virgil asked, tightly clutching at the paper.

“It was outside, taped to the door, but that’s not all of it. Turn it over.”

Virgil threw Patton a hesitant look before flipping over the page. A letter adorned the other side, addressed to every citizen that resided in the capital.

Roman lost count of the amount of lies and venom the letter spat. Every line filled him with more and more anger until he was boiling, ready to explode.

“Lies! It’s all lies!” he exclaimed, standing as he snatched the letter and tore it up.

“Roman, calm down-”

“-No Patton, I won’t calm down! I’m not insane, no matter what that paper says. And now everyone is going to turn against us, and – and-“

Virgil stood, taking hold of Roman’s hand that had begun to grip and pull at his hair. “Roman, calm down.”

Roman violently shook his head. “I can’t, I can’t!”

“Do you trust me?”

“W-what?”

“Do you trust me?!”

“Ye-yes.”

“Then believe me when I say that no one from the rebellion is going to give away your position. We will protect you to the end, as we’ve all sworn to do so. We’ve come this far, we can’t give up now.”

“He’s right, Roman,” Patton interjected. “We’ve all put our lives on the line, it would be crazy to give up now.”

Roman nodded, breathing in a stuttering breath as he hastily wiped away tears. “I know, I trust you. I need to go-“

“Ro, wait-“ Virgil called, yet the slam of the balcony door and Roman’s retreating figure convinced him the fight wasn’t worth it.


	26. Chapter 25

Virgil let his mind wander to the hiss of sharpening metal. His hands moved almost on autopilot, the stone running along the sharp edge of the blade. The scene was comforting to Virgil, bringing back memories of years past that had long been buried.

Yet, the looming day plagued his mind with worries, drawing him away from the returning memories and back into the harsher reality. In less than a day it would all be over, they would either win…or they wouldn’t.

Two arms snaking around his waist shook him out of his thoughts. A comforting warmth pressed up against his back. “What’s wrong? You haven’t said a word for the past half hour,” a familiar voice spoke.

Virgil shrugged. “It’s just…it’s all so close now. Everything we’ve worked up to, it’s all there, just out of reach. And if it all falls apart, then I could lose you.”

“Hey,” Roman started, gently urging the other to turn round and face him, “You’re not going to lose me, we’re going to keep each other safe, okay? I’m not going to let a stupid crown, risk me losing the best thing I’ve had in my life.”

Virgil surged forward, wrapping himself up in Roman’s embrace. They swayed in place, letting the silence wash over them.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be just fine.”

Virgil nodded, giving Roman a chaste kiss before breaking away and turning back to the table. He picked up the stone and swept it across the blade, filling the air with the hiss of sharpening metal once more.

The footsteps told him that Roman had followed his lead as they both returned to work. Hearts lighter but head no different.


	27. Chapter 26

A countless number of belts lay across the dining table. Each one easily held ten, maybe fifteen swords. Roman had stared at them in awe when they had first been laid out. ‘An invention of Logan’s,’ Virgil had informed him.

 Footsteps came and went in hurried flutters behind the two as they dutifully sifted through the ever-growing pile of swords next to them and placed them into the belts. Where they had got so many swords from, Roman would never know.

Groups of three steadily started to filter into the house as Patton came to a stop beside them, a number of medical packs hanging from both arms. His face held a look of excitement, though the slight terror wasn’t well hidden behind the mask.

Across the city, Logan paced in his lavish guest room. The rest of the castle was still fast asleep, the sun just barely beginning to rise over the top of the impenetrable city wall. Yet Logan had been awake for hours, he wasn’t sure if he had even slept. Exhaustion curled deep in his bones, but the day was only just beginning…

The house was heaving, members of the rebellion stood in every nook and cranny. The last group of three scampered through the doorway, letting it gently swing to a close behind them.

Roman watched Patton climb up onto a table as he pulled on and tightened the armour Virgil had given him. Directions and orders flew over his head.  People clambered to get to their respective groups in a timely manner, moving past Roman with excited murmurs and glances.

“Roman!” Patton called, squeezing through the crowd towards the prince. “You’re up front, with the strongest members. Remember the plan, we’re close to the castle here that should give you a better chance to storm it before the army manages to form.  After that…it’s up to you.”

Roman nodded along, committing the last fine details to memory before replying. “I’ll do my best, Pat. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

“You _will_ see me soon, okay?”

“Okay, Pat,” Roman smiled, finding it better to say too few words than too many and risk spilling all of his deepest thoughts and fears.

And with that, Patton turned and left. Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched the room for the one person he needed to see before he left. Yet, he could see no sign of the familiar swept fringe or dark eyes he’d come to love.

Wait…love?!

He didn’t love Virgil, did he?

“Roman!”

He turned at the familiar voice, relief washing over him at the sight of Virgil pushing through the crowd.

“You need to go but I’ll be right behind you and I’ll see you soon,” Virgil spoke in a rushed tone, gripping tightly to Roman’s arm.

Roman nodded, pressing a soft kiss to Virgil a soft kiss. “I love you and I’ll see you soon,” he replied before turning and rushing to the front of the group before Virgil could comprehend and pull him up on what he’d just confessed.

The first wave watched as he strode towards the front door, crowding around their designated leader. Roman breathed deeply, placed a hand on the door and pushed through into the rising daylight.

The morning air was crisp and bitter, yet it held the promise of a hot day. The streets were mercifully still empty, though the upcoming commotion wouldn’t keep them that way for long.

The castle stood not far up ahead, the nearby houses luckily concealing the group from the patrolling guards, they’d have the drop on them.

Roman scanned the area before pulling the hood of his cloak up and pulling it tight around himself, concealing the weapons attached to his hips and boots. He turned, leading the trek up to the castle sitting far above everything else. The gravel crunched under his boots, the familiar sound seeming odd in the unfamiliar situation.

A glance up towards the turrets showed they were blessedly unmanned, a by-product of Logan successfully distracting the king so they could hit when they were off-guard.

The group was now in view of the guards, in a mere few seconds they would no longer have surprise on their side. A large group of mostly lower class citizens arriving at the gates was not a familiar sight, the guards would already be suspicious, they’d have to get past them quickly to stop the barracks from being informed of the attack.

“Halt!” a guard called, holding out his hand as an order as his sight landed on them. Yet, Roman pushed on towards them, pulling the hood of his cloak back. The guards stepped backwards in shock, instantly fumbling to draw their swords. The crowd behind Roman ached to be released and rush over the two guards, yet Roman held them at bay, throwing his arms out the sides to stop them. If he didn’t get his hands dirty what kind of leader would he be?

“I’ll get this one,” he stated, striding forward and drawing his longsword. The guards charged, but they were clumsy, panicked in their attacks, letting Roman disarm them easily. Two members of the crowd surged forward, subduing the guards and leading them back towards the base.

Roman watched them go until they rounded the corner, losing sight of them between the interweaving buildings. He turned back to face the entrance, striding towards the open entrance. Roman lowered his arms, letting the crowd behind them run forward and towards the barracks.

Let the games begin…


	28. Chapter 27

Virgil idled on the doorstep, letting the chilling breeze whip against his face. His stomach felt like it had been tied up into at least a dozen knots. There were so many things that could go wrong, why did he ever let Roman lead?

Patton came to a stop beside him, placing a comforting hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You need to get going, V.”

 “I know,” Virgil replied, making no effort to move.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Patton replied, pulling Virgil into a slightly awkward but nonetheless comforting hug. Virgil returned it as best he could.

He sighed, pulled on one of the many identical cloaks and stepped out into the street, pulling it tightly around his form. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving him in the silent street. With one last glance around his group, he set off towards the castle.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving him in the silent street. With one last glance around his group, he set off towards the castle.

The sounds of a battle being raged could be heard from the bottom of the hill. Virgil rushed ahead, looking for any sign of Roman in the chaos that was unfolding inside the barracks. But Roman didn’t appear.

Virgil’s chest started to constrict in worry. No, he had to be there, somewhere! And he knew exactly where, or who, the prince would go after. Virgil drew his sword, giving the command to his men to charge. If he had to fight his way to Roman, so be it.

The army was deeply unprepared for the attack, that much was obvious. Very few of the men wore any kind of protective uniform, the lack of it unnatural and unbalancing to them. Maybe that was why they had left an entrance to the deeper parts of the castle open to anyone, and why Virgil managed to slip inside it. The clashing sounds of the fight lessened to a dull roar the further Virgil weaved inside the maze of the castle, it was nothing like he remembered. Since when did the castle have two possible paths to take by the library?

If only he hadn’t have been too preoccupied with which path to take, maybe then he would have heard the large guard who came up behind him, tackling Virgil and knocking him out cold against the cold stone floor.


	29. Chapter 28

Roman trod lightly, slipping silently through the corridors he knew all too well, heading straight for the throne room. The lack of guards made him uneasy, this is the last thing he would have expected…unless it was a trap. He’d have to tread carefully.

The doors to the throne room stood open. Declan stood over by one of the large windows, watching the chaos and anarchy unfolding in the courtyard below with cold detachment.

Roman was ready to burst with rage. His hold on his sword tightened, ready to make a rash decision, damned be the consequences. He readied himself to charge, yet his uncle spoke before he had the chance.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t the little prince. Back from the dead.”

“Sorry, I never got there. You’ll have to try harder next time, maybe even actually do some of the dirty work yourself.”

Declan laughed humourlessly. “Dear boy, why would I need to do that? I already have minions to do that for me, it comes hand in hand with being king.”

“The same minions who you had try to kill me?”

“Exactly, you’re not as stupid as you look,” Declan replied, turning to face his nephew with an evil smirk. “Not as stupid as your mother and father it seems. They couldn’t see the carriage crash coming, but I could.”

“You villan!” Roman screamed, his rage exploding as he raised his sword and ran at his uncle, inches from the king’s neck-

“Roman, stop!” Logan called, rushing forward from where he had been standing in the shadows and grabbing onto Roman’s arms.

“Logan, ever the faithful advisor after everyone else has jumped ship,” Declan smiled, seemingly unfazed by the sword that was now pressed to his throat by a very angry Roman.

“Don’t do it, Roman. You’re better than this,” Logan explained, ignoring the comments thrown by Declan.

“Why shouldn’t I? He killed my parents, he deserves to suffer!” Roman cried, frustrated tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Because you’re giving him an easy way out. There are other ways to give your uncle his comeuppance, don’t resort to this.”

Time seemed to slow to a stop as Roman contemplated the options, all three of them holding their breath. Eventually, the longsword Roman held was lowered as the prince marched his uncle out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard.

At the movement, everyone in the courtyard seemed to freeze, looking up to see their king with a sword at his back.

“Lay down your weapons,” Roman called out, “your corrupt king has been overthrown.”

The members of the rebellion looked to each other with glee, sinking to kneel for Roman. Slowly and a little less sure, the army came to do the same.

—

Roman emerged into the courtyard, Logan by his side

“Take him to the dungeons, and make sure he stays there,” Roman ordered, passing Declan to the closest members he recognised. They nodded, taking the overthrown and broken king back inside.

Logan and Roman headed through the courtyard, passing the damage control that was now taking place as medics flitted to injured soldiers they couldn’t get to before. The scene wasn’t nice by any means, but it was peaceful, and that’s Roman wanted it to be right now. Everything else could come later.

A young boy ran through the gates, a letter clutched tightly in his grasp. He skidded to a stop in front of Roman, who looked on in slight confusion as he panted heavily. “I…was sent with…this…your majesty,” the boy panted.

Roman thanked the boy and took the letter that he held out, opening it and skimming over the contents.

Logan watched as Roman visibly paled before his eyes, his hands starting to violently shake. “What’s wrong?” Logan asked, moving closer to his friend, ready for him to collapse at any given second.

“It’s Virgil…he’s been injured.”


	30. Chapter 29

Roman practically flew through the streets, Logan hot on his heels as they kicked up dust behind them. A million worries flew through Roman’s mind.

What did injured mean? Was it a few cuts and grazes? Or was it something more serious? Oh god, what if he was already dead?

He barged through the door, instantly calling for Patton, who appeared almost instantly. The house was eerily quiet after all the days of frenzied preparation it was…unnerving to say the least.

“He’s through here, Roman,” Patton explained, leading him up onto the second floor, “he was injured, knocked out at the castle. He was lucky to be found, but I’ll think he’ll be fine.”

Virgil lay in a small bed, his head heavily bandaged and a wistful look on his face. Roman rushed forward, pulling Virgil into a tight embrace.

“Oh god, V. I thought I’d lost you,” Roman exclaimed, tears of relief rolling down his face.

“Roman,” Virgil replied, clinging to the other just as tight. “I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay, love, it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re safe. Oh god, I love you.”

“I – I love you too.”


	31. Chapter 30

Six months came and went by in a breeze. A new kingdom was built from the corrupt one, a kingdom that treated it’s citizens with kindness and care. The old council was disbanded, a new, fairer one put together.

Of course, it hadn’t come easily. Worries about Roman were rife in the first month, worries that he would turn out just like his uncle. However, the newly appointed king put these to bed fairly quickly as he rebuilt the kingdom. They never found out how Declan escaped from his cell, yet they never found him either.

The bells of the local church rang as Virgil and Roman took to the streets after Roman’s coronation, greeting well wishers on a pleasant spring day. Their hand were loosely linked as they walked, a feeling of contentment coming with it.

A man hidden in a cloak caught Roman’s eye. He smiled menacingly before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. The very thought of his uncle hiding under that cloak made him start to shake. He opened his mouth to shout, to tell Virgil, to alert the guards, anything! But his voice froze and died in his throat against his will.

And then he was gone. Like dust in the wind.

“Ro, you okay?” Virgil asked, pulling Roman from his whirlwind of thoughts.

“I saw my uncle,” Roman replied, voice shaky.

Virgil turned away, mumbling something intelligible to Logan, who had been overseeing the proceedings from a few feet away, before turning back to face Roman. “They’ll get him. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but eventually he’ll get caught up with.”

“I know,” Roman smiled, “and until then I have you by my side.”

“You do,” Virgil agreed.

“And we’ll take back our kingdom.”

“That we will.”

~ FIN ~


End file.
